A never ending cycle
by CBCstories
Summary: Peter Quill always thought cycles are made to be broken, but sometimes they break when you least expect them: at the worst time and place, making a turn for the worst. It is up for the rest of the team to pick up the pieces, or is it already too late? Rated M for swearing and Peter whump.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hi! This is my first GOTG story. It will have a bit of swearing, so I **__**apologize about it. **_

**_English is not my first language, so if there are any mistake I would really appreciate if you tell me so I can learn more and write better things. This chapter is an "introduction" chapter to my story and I hope you enjoy it._**

**_There will be swearing, bit of violence, and Peter whump! _**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 1<span>**

It's always hard to lay down to rest after a long exhausting just for your brain cells to rebel against your body and fight the ache till you became wide awake again.

You can feel your body muscles trembling for the need of a break, but at the same time your neurons function in such a way that everything seems enhanced: you can predict the movement of the wind around you, the dancing of the simplest sounds at your vicinities –some you would not even normally hear—and even give a detailed recapitulation of every single thing you've witnessed been said and done during that day, even if you weren't paying attention to it, it always seems as if your brain actually was.

His deserted room was colder than usual, or so it seemed to him, but this was not the first time he had been in this kind of situation. No, not at all. Since they had left the Nova Corp he had encountered this kind of nightmare situations a few times, always having a few nights without a single hour of rest until his body could no longer accept his stupid brain decisions and shut down. Badly. He would feel tired, hungry and grumpy for a few days —with even Groot leaving his side during those times — and then out of nowhere he would find himself asleep in the weirdest positions in the weirdest places of the Milano, and the cycle would end. So, no, he was not worried this time, but he knew it was the beginning of a cycle he could no longer afford to be on.

And that was how Peter Quill found himself one horrible night on his bed, his body screaming for a night's sleep after hours and hours of cleaning the Milano because "someone" –mainly Gamora—felt it was the most disorganized ship she had ever put a foot on, and his brain fucking functioning like it was made of Christmas lights and it was midnight on the 24th of December.

_Damn it…—_ was his only thought.

Closing his eyes for the 4th time that night, he began thinking about what had happened the last few months, something he never puts time into unless his in this kind of situation, because if he did… he would probably freak out and get the hell out of there to the nearest moon.

After saving the universe, he and his crew — yes, **his** crew — had decided to work on different type of jobs, to make it interesting, for the Nova Corp and other creatures around. Simple things, nothing too complicated or out of the ordinary for a trained assassin, a talking genius raccoon and a literal maniac. Yeah, those were his friends and crew. When had **that** happen, uh? When had he decided to become a hero and a captain? To save the universe from evil creatures while making a living out of it? He was supposed to be the screw-up, a lone wolf that lived life a day at a time and now… now others depended on him and though it was nice to wake up to a known face that did not want to kill or shoot you, it also was freaking him out.

During his childhood Yondu and the scavengers had told him to learn to follow orders, to not fuck it up — though he had done it every single time and they never stop reminding him of that — and to never trust or care for anyone but himself. That aliens where there to eat his tender Terran flesh and you were always better on your own.

Peter chuckled at the dark thought that often came to him during these sleepless nights. How had he put it? Oh, right…

_"__Listen, my boy..." —_ he closed his eyes and could remember ever muscle of that ugly blue face tensing so as to make every word out slowly for the brat to understand them. This had been when he was barely a kid and he had been so close to him that he could feel his rotting breath against his small face like a slap, his broken teeth and mouth moving forming each and every word and drops of saliva hitting his face with every single one. But he had not moved during the entire speech — "_If you want that sweet little ass of yours to survive, take care of it on your own. 'Cause if ya give it to someone else, you might find yourself under a rock at the age of 30 and you ain't be coming back to blame me, got it?"_

_Yeah, it was something like that —_ he thought and smiled to himself.

But if something had happened these past few months was that he was no longer sure about Yondu's wise words. His comrades had each other's backs and even when he thought he had been alone and surrounded, someone had always appeared out of nowhere to save him.

He counted on them, he really did, and they seemed to count on him. They were a team, a weird one, but a team none the less and he… he cared. He had finally given a chance to the joy of friendship and all those happy ending movies he always heard about, but it was on **him.** He was the captain, he was the leader, this entire thing depended on him and though he didn't think bad about himself, he had only taken responsibility about something else than himself once before and that damn plant had barely survived a week before it was too weak for its own stem to actually supports its weight.

Granted, he had been only 14 at the time and no one had told him how the hell you took care of a damn plant — how was he supposed to know it needed water and light at least once a day? — but he had screwed up again and his badly functioning brain knew he would do it again.

Sighing deeply Peter moved both arms to the side of his body and pushed himself up so he was sitting on the bed with his blankets already on the ground. It was then he decided his stupid gray matter had won the battle and he was not going to have a nice recovering queen-like sleep and with the ideas he had right now flying around his mind, it was obvious that even if he tried to fall asleep, he would have the worst nightmares ever and barely a couple of minutes of rest, so why try it and frustrate yourself when you could do something else, right? Something productive.

"Okay, Peter, time to wake up and be useful for once". – he said out loud as he ran a hand over his face to try and hide his tiredness before pushing himself up and out of the bed.

Quickly he dressed with red leather pants and a black tight short-sleeves t-shirt before grabbing his Walkman and leaving the room towards the cockpit. He stopped at the door as his body trembled for a couple of seconds. He placed his hands around his chest to keep warmth where it was needed but before he could wonder what the hell was going on, it stopped. Uh, maybe it was colder around this area of the universe? Maybe Gamora had been wrong about the temperature or they had turned the calefaction off?

Shaking his head he quickly decided to grab a simple black and white woolen vest and turned again to leave. He would clean his room some other time… yea, he most definitely would.

The lights were off everywhere on the Milano, something he had yet to get used to as he ran a hand over the metallic walls to get a sense of where the hallway started and when it ended, so as not to get a crushing headache for walking right into a wall and waking everyone up. He used to leave them on all the time so as not to feel alone, but now… now it bothered the others, so after a few "discussions" where Rocket would call him a baby for needing a night light and Drax would ask why Peter was being called a baby as he of course was a grown-up, he had finally agreed to turn them off.

As he walked towards the upper floor, he couldn't stop but feel annoyed at the silence surrounding him. He could hear his own footsteps as his feet made contact with the cold metallic floor and even his slow breathing, but that was it. Nothing more, not even a snore.

Why could they all sleep so peacefully yet he could barely get a couple of hours a week was beyond his comprehension. Why was he the only one that felt the weight of the universe crushing down on his crest in such a way that every breath came with pain such as the one from a broken rib? He shook his head and kept walking… those kinds of thoughts where getting him nowhere.

He was not a cry baby! He was not… he was not…

Sighing for the 10th time in a row he finally got to his destination and sat down on the pilot's chair. He put his legs up and rested his head on the seat while pressing play to his Walkman and leaving it at a high volume to shut everything else out.

The Milano was on auto pilot so there was no real need for him to be there, but it was the only place where his thoughts flew away and left him with the emptiness of a magnificent view.

He placed his headphones on his ears and starred at the vast universe in front of him with a sad smile on his face.

Everything in the background in front of him was black telling him how small he truly was, yet from time to time something really tiny barely able to be seen with the naked eye would appear on his peripheral vision and he would wait as it grew and grew shaping itself around the darkness till he could try and guess what it was. He'd then wait a little longer to see if his guess was right — it was a planet, a moon, a sun, a piece of metal…— and watched it move slowly towards him like a hunter to its prey to finally swing around the Milano as if deciding it was not worth disturbing.

He tapped his fingers over his chest to the music as his body finally began relaxing. This was his sacred palace, the place he would often go to just let everything go. It was the place where he had spent restless nights thinking about his mother, about Yondu, the only father he had met and about everything else. But the difference was that here, here everything felt small and simple, nothing felt too big for the universe and someone's problems just became easier to solve.

Yeah, the universe was a beautiful moving painting that changed constantly to the point where you could never see two exact images of it in a life time. It was wonderful, filled with mystery and adventure, something Peter Quill knew very much about. How Terrans still hadn't felt in love with it to such extend to feel the need to explore it was a wonder to him, but he was glad to be out there in the middle of nowhere and not at some school studying some boring textbook that made no sense.

Smiling halfway he came to the same conclusion that he came to every time he was trapped in his mind and succumbing in his despair: he would give it a shot. He would try his hardest this time… for once in his life he really wanted to try it and he was NOT going to screw this up. If winning meant sacrificing his life then he would be the hero, Peter fucking Quill.

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><p><em><strong>So what do you think? Erase it? Worth the time? Thank you for reading and I hope to have a new chapter soon!<strong>_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Woow, just wooow... so many followers in just 2 days! I am so thankful for everyone that was taken the time to read this. Thanks for the 6 favourites and to cuddlyhipster and keyrousse man you made me smile! I was really nervous about the story and everything – still am! – but you made my day when I read those reviews.**_

_**Anyway, it takes me a bit to write this because I write it on a notebook then correct it add things and then to the computer xd so it's a process, but I like it because I learn more English and I love writing. I will be posting more often these two weeks because I'm on vacations and all, but anyway… blablabla, thanks for everything!**_

_**Hope you like it :) **_

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

— "…well, he wasn't here!" – he heard a low voice shoiting.

— "But he is here."

— "Argg… he is not… here, here, you dumbass."

— "Still, we should have waited" — a female whispered.

Peter stirred; feeling his body finally coming back to life as shouting appeared to be all around him. Why were they shouting?! Gosh! Couldn't they just talk in a whisper or with morse code or something? He closed his eyes tightly to block the growing pain crossing his temples, but it was not going anywhere. When had he got such a terrible headache? When had he fallen asleep and most importantly, who the hell had turned the heat off?! It was freaking freezing!

— "Wait, I think he is waking up. — he heard the female voice whispering, who he could only guess was the nice green assassin, Gamora.

— "About damn well time!" — someone yell making his brain cells explode there for a second. That had to be Rocket, for there was no other in his ship that would yell like that without giving a single shit about the one resting.

— Could you… not yell, please?" — he whispered back while opening his blue eyes. Everything was out of focus for a second, the view of the Galaxy already lost by the shadowy blurry image of his team, but soon enough it stopped spinning and he was able to adjust his eyes to the new light and sit back up on the chair starring at the new faces surrounding him.

— "Well, good morning to you too." — Was Rocket's sarcastic reply. He ran a paw over his fur and rolled his eyes as if trying to make Peter understand he was **not** going to take his request into account.

All the lights from the Milano were somehow on and his Walkman was still on, but hanging around his neck, which to him was for once a good thing, for he could have not tolerated the high and strong music he loved so much right now. He stopped the cassette and turned to see his four companions staring at him all with different expressions: Rocket had his furry arms around his chest looking ready to throw a bomb at him; Gamora was raising an eyebrow as if waiting for him to stand up and command everything smoothly while deciphering an ancient code…like that was **ever** going to happen; Drax just stared at him with a blank expression and Groot, well just was just being Groot.

Okay, time to wake up completely or else everything was going to go down the drain from here and he was definitely not ready to have a horrible headache and a fight with his team. He just couldn't have a day of rest anymore: he was in charge of them, as he had promised the Nova Corp, and he was known for keeping his promises…except with ladies, but those didn't count, right?

He took about 5 seconds to compose himself. They didn't need to know he was feeling crappy, a captain never got sick or he sucked it up, or at least that's what he had been told by his mother and Yondu. During his childhood he had heard a lot of tales about important sailors and captains that never seemed to need to sleep or eat or think. They were important and everyone around them seemed to respect them. It was nothing like the situation he was at, but deep down the inner child of Peter Quill really wanted to prove himself, to prove to the world that he was not a screw up and that Yondu had not made a mistake by taking him under his arm rather than as a supper dessert.

So he was going to be himself: charming, happy, smiling and relax and not thinking about how his body just wanted to crawl under a really nice and warm blanket (again, why was so damn cold in here?!) and about how his brain seemed to be cracking every time he stared at something too bright, with too many colours or just everything in general.

— "Well, good morning to you too, Rocket." — he smiled brightly. —"What time is it anyway?"

—"It is 7:35 in the morning." — was Drax answer and Peter frowned. So he had slept about 30 minutes give or take, uh… interesting. On the bright side, at least it was more than a minute…

— "That early? Geez, what happened to late waking? Haven't you heard of brunch?" — he teased as he scratched the back of his head. He really wanted to move from the chair but his feet seemed to be glued to the ground.

— "Well excuse me your highness, but we were kind of in the middle of something!" — Rocket snapped back.

Pain exploded on Peter's head each time a new word was pronounced in that high pitched voice, but he kept himself in check, the only sign of his discomfort a twitch on his left eye. He wanted to say something back, he really did. Screw being a hero or a captain, the pain was too much for him to bear, but what did that mean? That this was just an act? That he wasn't really meant for the skies and should have allowed Yondu's team to eat him? No, he had to try, he had to, even if only for himself.

Rocket rolled his eyes and Gamora moved behind him as if waiting for him to stand up and move to the common room where they could all sit and chat, but Drax raised an eyebrow at him allowing him to push it a little bit more before he had to challenge his body to stand.

— "What is this brunch you speak of?" — came the almost obvious question. Someone really needed to give him a book about metaphors and acronyms, it would make everything so much easier, but Peter was never one to criticize… much.

— "Brunch? Breakfast plus lunch, equals brunch. Ehh…, never mind." — he added with a simple smile before turning his head to the side —"So, what's up?" — he finally asked without moving too much from his seat, fearing that if he stood up the whole world around him would spin too much for his liking.

If they were mad about him for not standing it was left aside as the atmosphere suddenly changed. The air condensed with the glare of a green face — for once not directed at Peter — and Rocket tried to avoid all eye contact. Peter swallowed slowly realizing just now how much it actually hurt to bring fluid down his pharynx, but he ignored it and stayed silent watching their every move.

— "Well… emm…"— Rocket began as he scratched the back of his head and sifted his body weight from one foot to the other —"Since you were too out of it to answer the intercom, you lady Terran, I did" — he finally spat out, still not looking at anyone directly.

It took Peter a few seconds to grap the meaning behind those words.

_Oh shit… _was the only thought dancing through his brain.

The first thing that came to him was anger: how dare they decide something without him? He was the damn captain! His ship, his team! He was in charged and would often think really hard before accepting something, any offer from even the Nova Corp. There was never a time he would accept an offer out of the blue without thinking about all the possible outcomes and repercussions it might have on them and they just decided to say yes the second they had a chance to do so?

His fingers pressed hard into his palm, making his knuckled whiter than usual. Adrenaline crossed his entire body as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over him. He wanted to scream at them and leave the room — fuck being a damn captain if his team didn't even think about asking him about something as obvious as a mission — but… but this was Peter Quill… and he could barely get angry at a bad guy that wanted to destroy the universe, so soon the anger left his body as sunlight left the surface of Earth every day, leaving darkness behind.

All he was left with now was confusion and exhaustion. He still felt hurt that Rocket still didn't trust him with things, but he had a reason, right? 12% of a plan had been all he had had that time. Truthfully, it had been a bit more than 12% and now he usually had a 100% plan if they followed it, but he was always prepared if they decided not to follow it, but still it was not enough. It never seemed to be enough and that make him cringe inside. Could he really become the captain they needed?

He liked having people to depend on him, but in reality he was better accustomed to just waking up when he wanted to, eating when he needed to and paying his bills when someone else wanted him dead because of them. That was how he was used to living, so it was hard now to all of a sudden have to think of a month meal plan, labor hours, etc. Even thinking about it right now was giving him a bigger headache. How the hell had he not panicked about it already? Oh right, maybe being barely able to sleep every once in a while was kind of a sign that he actually was… not that he was really going to admit it out loud.

— "Peter?" — Gamora asked in a sweet gentle voice that made Peter snap out of his own self-loading mode.

— "Oh, right… em, okay, okay…" — he thought out loud as he, stupidly, forgot about his problems and decided to stand up and turned around to face them. For a moment his legs seemed to fail him as the room spun around him and he had to put both hands on the back of the chair to sustain himself.

Frowning at his own weakness he thanked whoever was out there for making his movements look as if he was thinking and not almost falling to the floor like a rad doll. He kept on that position for a second or two just to give the sensation that it was on purpose while he begged for the world around him to stop playing to be a spinning top.

After a couple of minutes his head stopped feeling as if needles where being pushed inside it and he was finally left to deal with the issue at hand.

— "So… who is this guy you spoke to, uh? What did he want?" — he asked Rocket with a tired expression that did not go unnoticed by Gamora.

Everyone turned towards the furry little being at the center of the room and waited.

— "I was just going to explain that when someone…" — and he glared at Gamora —"…decided to interrupt and yell because, and I quote, you should not have done that and a lot of other nonsense I decided not to pay attention to".

— "It was not nonsense! It would have taken you about a second to wake him up."

— "I was merely taking an administrative decision." — he growled back.

Yup, this was definitely his team. Peter sighed and thought about leaving, but he couldn't. He had to make things right, he had to. It was his team, his chance.

— "Woow, no need to start another fight, guys. It's fine with me if he decided to emm… make an administrative decision or whatever that is." — he interrupted quickly and added as much of a smile as he could for Gamora to believe him —"Just… why don't we stop wasting each other's time and get to the end of this. All right?"

— "I am groot!"

— "See? Even big tree here wants the yelling to stop."

Gamora rolled her eyes at his response, but other than that decided not to interfere anymore. Rocket seemed pleased with his answer as his shoulders relaxed a bit before he began speaking again.

— "Well, sleeping beauty, it was the Nova Corp. That weird old lady and all." — he began while frowning, most likely trying to remember as much details as possible — "Said she had told ya about a 200.000 credit deal and was waitin' for your answer. 200.000 credits, Peter! And ya never spoke about it with us?" — he said as Peter's heart began sinking.

_Oh no… please don't say it… please don't…_

— "So I did ya a favour, ALL of us a favour." — he said in the most altruistic way possible. —"I accepted it for ya. It's only a 2 days trip till we get there. In and out…"

But that was all Peter heard, the rest of the mission details already in the back of his mind and his heart began jumping in his chest, his pain already forgotten as only one thought came to mind.

_Oh fuck, we are fucking dead._

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><p><em><strong>Again, thanks for reading and tell me if you like it or not ! See you soon.<strong>_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hello there! This chapter is longer than the rest for a simple reason: I wanted to get things rolling and had a lot of ideas to put in, so yeah, this happened.**_

_**Again, thanks for the support I'm really amazed at the amount of followers and all the people that take the time to actually read this and also review: Reish95, Saphira Nograd , Eremija, jeps and everyone thank you so, so much.**_

_**So anyway, hope you like this chapter =)**_

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

—"Come on Peter, we gotta go!"

Another gunshot almost hit him in the head as he starred at the frightened form of his fellow furry teammate. His body screamed concerned as he tried to shot at something behind them while thinking probably about a way to get out of this mess.

How had things gotten this bad? They had flown to the site and hid as the guards turn ended. They had moved inside easily, always staying in the shadows as Gamora had told them to, and ran through the hallways of the building encountering no problems at all.

It was a big building of at least 4 stories high and each floor with at least forty or fifty rooms, but Peter knew it all by hard: from side to side, top to bottom; so they did not need to stop at any given point. They just kept running, following Peter's mind as it moved on a straight line down the halls.

They had divided into two teams for this mission in particular: Gamora, Drax and Groot would stay outside and be used as bait, while Peter and Rocket would penetrate the site and get the information they were looking for.

It was supposed to be really easy. An in and out mission and for a second, Peter thought a plan of his had finally worked out, but of course…. Of course it hadn't, because why the fuck would a plan of his work out, uh?

After a couple of minutes, they had finally run passed everyone and had gotten to the room they needed to get to. Cold sweat soaked his shirt and his hands were shivering so hard he could barely hold on to his gun. It was as if his body was telling him something was bound to happen. Why had they seen almost no one around? Not even a scientist…, but before his brain could make sense to everything and peak behind the black wall that was in his mind, Rocket had pushed the door and hell had broken loose.

Of course it had been a trap! But Peter had no time to yell at himself for his stupidity and lack of recognition before he had to dodge to the side after almost being shot to death by a round of bullets.

And that was how they were now, twenty minutes later each behind some sort of desk trying to figure out how to out pass fifty sweaty big hardcore guards whose sole purpose was to shoot them and use them as a new carpet or wall trophy.

— "Let's get out of here Quill! Keep movin'. I ain't savin' your ass again." — he heard the raccoon words barely as more bullets flew around them.

— "Fuck…. Yeah, I'm coming, I'm coming…" — he shouted back, but that second of lack of attention was all it took for Peter to be left unprotected.

Pain exploded on the left downside of his torso as he felt every fasciculus of his muscle being shredded apart into pieces. Time stopped moving for Peter like in a stupid fake dramatic movie where the hero is hurt and he can even see the drops of rain falling from the sky as everyone holds their breath for the dear old hero, but this time only Rocket stared at him worriedly and he knew it was no movie, but real life. He soon realized it was becoming harder to take oxygen into his lungs and alveolus towards his cells. His vision blurred at the sides as if his body was slowly entering a dark place he knew he would not get out from.

He could see the look of disbelief on Rocket's face — and boy he would have laughed at the sight if he had not been shot — as if he genuinely could not understand what his eyes were transmitting to his mind, but Peter knew better than that: he had screwed up, he was done for.

Blood poured out of his body like water from an open tap and soon his hands were covered in it from palm to the tip of his fingers. It was really useless to try and put pressure into it right now, but his body protested against his inner suicidal decision and pushed harder for his own survival.

His body crumbled to the floor as his legs could no longer sustain his own weight, but to his own amazement there was no pain, not anymore. He felt peace and silence for once in his life: it was like everything around him had shut up and decided to leave him be for once, something he never really thought would actually happen, not even in a situation like this one. Nothing mattered anymore. It was beautiful, in its own twisted way.

His eyes began closing, too tired of all the light and colours around them. His ears no longer gave signals of sound to his dying brain and with a final smile he let his body move to the side for the oh so needed rest….

…

He opened his eyes again and the first thing he felt was pain and cold, very cold. Blue eyes focused on the things around him and with a grunt he realized he was not on the field, but on the floor of the Milano.

— "Damn it…" — he mumbled to the silent walls. He was laying on the cold metal floor with his legs entangled on a fallen chair and his body twisted to the side.

He shifted a bit so he was staring at the ceiling as he tried to breathe and stop the anxiety currently running through his body.

Blue eyes stared at nothing while his trembling hand touched the left side of his torso where a bullet wound should had been, but it was unharmed. Sighing in relief, he ran a hand over his sticky blonde bangs and closed his eyes.

It had only been a nightmare. Another god damn nightmare. How many times had he already passed out? Too many to count probably; but each and every single time he had woken up startled by a silly 3 year-olds nightmare. Fuck. It had only been 12 or 14 hours since Rocket had accepted the dreadful mission and all he had done was unconsciously freak about it. Every time he had a second to spare his mind drifted back to the moment those whiskers had moved with his face muscles and had told them the story about how he had made an "administrative decision". What did that even mean?! An administrative decision? More like a "I don't give two rats ass what everyone else thinks I'm going with my own thinking here" kind of decision. No, no, Peter was not going to blame Rocket. He was supposed to have been awake, if he had been, then nothing like this would have happened. He would have spoken with his team like he had planned and then decide together how to say NO to the Nova Corp, because they were the Guardians of the Galaxy not the Suicidal Guardians of the Galaxy and they all valued their lives even when credits were at hands reach.

With both arms at his sides he pushed himself upward, regretting doing so halfway there. During the past few hours his headache had gotten worse —hitting the cold metallic floor not really helping either—, almost to the point where he just wanted to be shot to be able to release some pressure in his skull. Light bothered him and sounds… woow, don't even let him start about sounds. He could barely tolerate his own mental notes and he was pretty sure those didn't fit into the "sound" category anyway.

He closed his eyes to compose himself as he felt his Walkman at his side. Since the other night when the damn headache had started he had not been able to listen to a single song, not even in the lowest volume and it was making him miserable.

No, he was not a child that wanted a toy. He was not some little brat that would cry for what he wanted right in that split moment, but if there was something he valued almost more than his life was that Walkman, because it was the only thing he had from his mother, it was the only memory that was not in his head to remind him that in fact she existed. That after every shitty day he could go back have a shower and play music that would take him to another dimension, where his mother's figure was intact: her smooth white skin, her hair that fell just in the right way up to her shoulders, but most importantly her smile: that big toothy smile that always told him thing would get better and so Peter would believe. Believe in the world; believe in himself, even if it was for just a heartbeat.

Many wondered how he had survived on his own for such a long time. Even with Yondu, Peter would often be at his own ship working on something — like maybe how to scape Yondu, but that's another story — but those that knew him had a pretty good idea: his Walkman. It was his best friend, the only thing that had not betrayed him, left him or told him he was useless. He didn't need other people because when he was in his own little world, he was surrounded by good feelings and the touch of his mother.

So now, while sitting in the cold floor all alone, he wanted to be there. He wanted to leave momentarily and just relax, but he couldn't. He was trapped in his miserable existence with a damn high fever — of that he was sure about, no longer having the energy to deny it at least to himself — and with all the symptoms that came happily after.

He took a deep breath and pushed himself up. He felt the vile moving up his esophagus, but he pushed it down and with pure willpower he managed to grab the chair, place it down near the table and collapse over it with a thud.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck… will everything please stop spinning?_

He placed a hand over his forehead and realized with a bit of concern that it was warmer than before. He was sweating like a guy who had run a marathon twice and his throat was so raw he was scared that if he pronounced a single word it would break in two.

Yup, he was sick and very sick, but what was he supposed to do? After Rocket had decided to accept the mission — and everyone else agreed with him because who would not accept 200.000 credits, right? — they had looked at Peter and went to sleep, why? Because they knew just like he did, that he was the captain: that he had to deal with this crappy situation and figure out a plan before they reached the god forsaken place. And let's not forget about the back up plans he had to have for every single possibility that **they** would happen to do something stupid and destroy plan A. There was no time for sickness; there was no time for pain because a ship without a captain was a sinking one.

So here he was, having barely eaten anything — not that he could anyway — in the middle of the night alone in the common room with a bunch of papers and a single pen trying to figure the best way to literally not die in a horrible manner while trying to deal with his own selfish need to dig a hole in the ground and hid in there for the rest of the year.

Frowning he stared at the papers before him for a second, trying to remember what the hell he had been thinking before his brain decided to drift into dream land when he heard footsteps approaching.

_Great… _

He was really not in the mood to be with company, even if it was Groot or Gamora. He was tired, hungry, hurting, pissed off at everyone for agreeing with Rocket and mostly afraid. Afraid that he was going to get them all killed, that he was not being himself and that he might never be able to hear music again, because this damn headache would just not go away.

— "So… got a plan ready for us, Quill?" — came the voice of none other than Rocket.

Peter turned a bit towards him with half a smile, almost wishing he would just go away. Rocket was wearing only a pair of underwear probably because he had been sleeping peacefully in his room, while Peter still had yesterday's clothes.

— "Ehh… still working on it." — he quickly replied and turned towards the papers, which meaning he had yet to figure out.

— "Well you better hurry up there, 'cause you ain't got all the time of the world here, pal."

Peter bit his lip so as not to reply. Really? Like he didn't know that yet! He had pushed himself as much as he could the past few hours and he had gotten nowhere. Why? Because it was a damn suicide mission they should have never accepted!

—"Yeah, thanks for the warning." — he said and stood up. His hands firmly on the table for a couple of seconds before he was able to straighten up and move towards the kitchen.

His throat had been fine before he was made to speak out loud, but now, now it was as if a knife had been pushed into it and he was slowly swallowing it, while it left a bunch of cuts burning as it moved.

— "No, really Quill, what the hell have you been doing, uh?" — the raccoon kept going without even taking the time to look at the crappy captain he had before him. He jumped to the chair Peter had emptied and stared at the blurry lines before him. The papers filled with lines and nonsense, nothing further from a plan.

Peter didn't reply to Rocket for he was too busy washing his face at the faucet while pushing a glass underneath so he could have some glorious liquid finally getting into his system.

He really wasn't trying to be mean, he was just trying to stay on point before he actually drown on the stupid sink, but that was not how Rocket was seeing it.

Frowning angrily the gray raccoon turned to stare in disbelief as his captain seemed to not care about the whole deal at hand. He was actually taking such a long time to gather water? He was really that bored? He bit his lip as he kept glaring at Peter's back.

He liked Peter, he really did. But he knew how he was: he was always happy, bubbly as if nothing mattered and that pissed him off. Peter was like a child, a child that had gotten everything in his life and decided it was not good enough for his sorry ass and moved along. Well boo-hoo. He needed to learn that they depended on him, that he could no longer act like a horny teenager and start acting like a captain!

— "Hey! Space to Peter!" — he began, still trying to control his anger, for he knew that it was only that: anger. He knew Peter was better than before, though he still acted like a child he cared for them, but that darkness was flowing through his veins before he realized it and soon it was too late to stop it.

—"Uh? Yeah?" — Peter asked with glassy eyes, his mind almost out of there as his headache began growing.

—"What the hell is this shit, anyway!" — he yelled and pointed a little finger towards the papers in front of him —"This is not even a 1% plan! They are just lousy doodles. What are you trying to do? Get us all killed?!"

Peter stared at Rocket with big hurt eyes as he felt every word being spat at him. The anger behind those words… it made him sad, but at the same time it was like a ball of paint had been thrown towards him and coloured his chest and heart black.

— "What kind of a captain are ya anyway? Taking the time to get a cup of coffee, uh? Too tired to actually think about anyone else but yourself?"

A cup of coffee? Think about anyone else but himself? Was this stupid animal for real? All he had done for the past few days was thinking of anyone **but** himself! He was feeling miserable — not that Rocket would actually figure that one out with his skull full of hot air — and he had tried to force it down for their sake, because **they** had decided to go on and die for 200.000 credits, not him. **Not him**.

—"What are you tal—" — but he was interrupted by a very exasperated raccoon.

— "No, no, no, Quill. This ain't another mission where you can dance yourself out of it." —he narrowed his eyes — "You otta be getting your shit together or we ain't surviving this one. And it won't be my fault."

Peter stopped what he had been doing, the cup of water had almost reached his dry mouth when those words had finally squeezed themselves into his ears. His heart stopped beating in his head as he felt himself being consumed by everything, everything. He closed his eyes and bit his lip till it bleed. His hands trembled as he placed the glass gently on the sink, but for once it was not because he was tired or sick, the reason actually being the creature behind him.

He turned slowly to see Rocket's eyes wandering around the mix of papers he had over the common room table and suddenly the weight of the world was too much to handle.

—"Won't be your fault? Excuse me?" —he started without a single notion of what the hell was going to get out of his mouth —"If I remember correctly it was you the one that decided to take this mission, not me."

— "Well, I was only taking an ad—"— but it was now Peter the one doing the interruption.

—"An administrative decisión" — he continued with a mocking voice —"Yeah right and now I am stuck in the back of the Milano in the middle of the night trying to figure out how to get us out of there in a single piece. Didn't you read the details of the mission? Uh? — Rocket's flat ears told him enough —"Yeah, why the hell would you do it anyway?! I'll tell you about them…" — he continued and angrily walked towards the table and pushed a couple of buttons.

As soon as he finished a giant model of the site appeared in the middle of the table. It was huge, at least 10 stories high and seemed to have cameras all around it.

—"**THIS** is what you got us into, pal." — he glared as he placed a hand over his temples, which were beginning to make themselves notice —"This is the biggest high tech place we've ever encountered and no, a prison is nothing compared to this. There are at least six individual programs so hacking it ain't an option. Then we have the almost four hundred guards that move around the place in cycles so there's never, ever, a blind spot we could use. And finally, the cherry of the pie…" — he added as he pushed a single button and a big blue being came right in front of Rocket's eye vision. —"The lovely general. One of a kind in the universe: from an old tribe at the other side of the universe, the Mangarians. About 3 meters tall, all muscle and that blue-ish saliva around his body? Yeah that's like sweat, but the thing is, if you touch it… it's like acid. So try a dance off with that guy and let's see how that works."

The silence in the room was enormous after those words sank into Rocket's heart, but Peter just could no longer stop himself.

During their missions Peter never told his team the risks behind it. Of course, he would explain the general details, but he knew that if they freak out, then they were as good as dead. So he had promised himself to carry that weight on their shoulders, always knowing a thing or two more, which made him always the one with the most tension in his back, but he was fine with it. It was better him than all of the, right?

So no, he was not really happy about how he had snapped at Rocket, but seriously? Could they for once realize how Peter was feeling? The stress behind being a captain of a crew, that he never meant to have? He was tired and it might be the fever speaking, but he honestly felt like banging their heads on the wall and ending this damn cycle.

— "So yeah… why don't you make another "administrative decision", uh?" — he said and patted Rocket's back with a little too much force — "You be the captain now. I'm done."

And with those words he began walking, as fast as he could, towards his room. Towards freedom, towards safety.

He opened the door and without even changing or turning the lights on, he crashed into his unused pillow.

His head was spinning and his body was feeling cold and warm at the same time, but nothing prepared him for the cough that shook his body for a minute or two. He hid his face on the pillow to hide the sound — he really didn't want any company right now — and waited with none shredded tears as it finally stopped.

He took a deep breath and smiled. He was still feeling miserable, with no music and the fever of a lifetime. But he had finally grown a pair of hard big balls and given the responsibility he hated towards someone else.

Sadly, before he was able to succumb to the so much needed rest, his mind decided to play tricks on him: was it the right thing to do? Was it fair to give that responsibility to someone else when he had promise to take care of them? And soon only one thought pooped into his mind:

_I'm so going to regret this tomorrow…_

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><p><strong><em>Okay, so ... what did you think? Too OC? Too silly? Rewrite? I know Peter is sweet and will feel guilty, but to be honest I think there is just a point where we all just collapse and it had to happen to him aswell. <em>**

**_Next chapter soon! Thanks again for everything and I'll see you around._**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hola! So umm… 32 followers, I do not know what to say about that. I'm kind of freaking out at the amount of views the story is getting, though I try not to think about it, it's actually unbelievable. I hope I don't screw this up, but I really appreciate the support, I mean it.**_

_**Thanks for the new 5 awesome reviews, the new followers and favourites 3 you are all awesome! You all really make me smile and make me push myself harder for the next chapter to arrive, so thank you very much. I have actually written 2 chapters already, though I'll probably be posting them separated just in case something happens and I can't write another one soon enough.**_

_**Especial thanks to Saphira Nograd, qwert, cuddlyhispter and eremija who take the time to review :) *hugs*  
><strong>_

_**Anyway, hope you enojoy this chapter! **_

_**H**__**ere it goes...**_

_**(EDITED for mistakes -.- sorry for them!)**_

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

It is always hard to be sick: long hours by yourself on a bed feeling as the world is against you is not an easy option to take, especially when you are someone responsible for someone else. He remembered a long time ago, when his mother had first gotten sick. She would often play with him and smile as if she was not tired and wishing to relax, just because of her child.

During that time he never realized how much of a burden he had been, but now looking it from the other side of the coin; he was wishing he could have allowed her to rest or just play by himself from time to time. But at the same time he understood why she did it: she cared for him, genuinely and even the thought of seeing puppy eyes watching her every move must have hurt a lot more than just sucking it up for a couple of hours.

Peter watched the ceiling for another second. He had woken up a while ago, but the tiredness had won over him up until now and he had barely moved a single inch. How had he gotten into this mess? A few days ago he was up and singing, annoying everyone while doing so and now, now he was just a rag doll. His body weight had doubled and his lungs could barely get any oxygen in before he came down with a coughing fit that shocked his entire body.

Yup, he had definitely screwed this one up, but hey… look at the bright side, right? At least his fever was not high enough to actually worry about brain damage and hallucinations, so he had that one going for him, which was nice.

He could hear shouting from far away, voices easily getting mixed up in his smashed brain, but he knew he had to get up. He knew he had to force himself into the acting he had taken part of because well… if he didn't do so, then how were they supposed to get the mission done and live to tell the tale?

— "Just one more second…"— he told himself as if saying it out loud would make his body function again. The screaming increased and now he could clearly hear Rocket's voice against Gamora's, which told him he was already a second too late.

He pushed himself upwards and blinked a couple of times to adjust to the new scenery. He cracked his head to the side and then the other while taking into account the fact that his sheets were soaked in sweat and that his headache seemed to be much better.

Frowning, he decided not to think too much about the actual reason behind his fever going down — because he knew from experience that it meant it was going to come back with a kick — and took advantage of his new found strength to do what was needed to be done in order to make his acting debut a success, especially in front of the green _I-know-everything_ teammate.

He took off his black t-shirt and dropped it on the floor as he approached the empty bathroom and closed the door behind him. He turned the water as hot as possible as he undressed himself. It took a bit more energy than he had thought it would, but as he entered the shower and water began tenderly massaging his aching muscles ,he felt as if he was a brand new baby. He washed his hair with ease and soon he was out of the shower, though he would have stayed there for a century if he had been given the choice.

He was feeling better, he even felt like singing, but he decided against it, for he did not know how long would this feeling of rejuvenation would last, and he was not in any hurry to figure that one out.

He grabbed a towel and passed it through his hair as droplets of water began leaving his body as it was being dried off gently. He placed it around his middle and finally decided to take a lot at himself in the mirror.

—"Well shit…" — was his genuine reaction to the corpse staring back at him: his blue eyes were still a bit glassy with tiredness, dark black bags under his eyes made it look as if he had not slept in years and the paleness of his face could only be compared to an actual dead body. Even a drunk A'askvarii would not date him right now.

Shaking his head he quickly adjusted his bangs around his head to look at least a bit presentable and hit his cheeks to wake up or to at least have some sort of colour in them before he left the bathroom towards his room to get change and address the murdering shouts he was now hearing.

He grabbed a pair of black underwear a red shirt and some pants before it hit him again: the pain in his chest, the burning sensation in his throat and the damn coughing that made him see stars. He placed a hand over his chest and tried to think of anything but the drowning feeling that was growing inside him. It was as if a rock was pushing itself up from his esophagus; but it ended before he puked it, or died trying.

His blue eyes were filled with pain tears as he collapsed on the floor trying to get in as much air as he could when he heard it: movement towards him.

_Shit, shit, shit…_

There was nothing he could do as a brown branch surrounded him in a gentle hug. Had Groot been inside his room the entire time? His door was closed so it seemed the most likely scenario, but that meant he had seen him almost choke on nothing. Damn it.

— "I am… Groot?" — he asked with confusion and worry written all over his face.

—"It's okay, Groot… I'm… I'm fine…" —he said but his voice was barely a rusty whisper and Groot was definitely not buying it in the least.

— "I am Groot" — he replied shaking his head and attempted to stand, but Peter quickly grabbed his arm fearing that he might tell the rest about his little problem and then all would go down the drain.

— "Wait, wait, wait!" —he yelled without even realizing how scared he actually was of the rest figuring out he was no good and probably leaving him behind, or something —"You can't tell them. I'm fine, I promise! It was just a little cough, all right?" —he continued and slowly stood while tilting his head to the side to prove he was just fine —"See? It's o.k. I was just having a moment there, but let's not worry them more than they already are. We all know they don't need more stress or they might actually shoot someone." — he tried to reason.

Groot looked at him just a second before he shook his head and turned to the door, but Peter had foreseen it and had jumped towards it quickly enough to prevent the giant tree from leaving.

— "All right, all right!" — he said while racing his hands in a surrendered kind of way — "I was not being honest there, I apologize for it." — he added while biting the inside of his cheek —"I am not feeling too good…"

—"I am Groot!"

—"I know, I know… you knew that much, uh?" — he rolled his eyes as he placed a hand over his eyes and squished them before focusing again on his friend — "Look, just promise me you won't say anything. I'll drink whatever disgusting fruit or thing you want me to, but don't tell the others. I will rest after the mission but you and I both know you need me there."

They stayed that way for a few minutes just watching each other's moves: Groot for one was trying to figure out if Peter was genuinely well or it was just another stretched truth he usually gave them and Peter just planning what to do if his plan with Groot didn't work out…

— "I… am… Groot…" — came the defeated words that almost made Peter jump and dance in joy, but he didn't, it was not a very Star-Lord thing to do.

He smiled as he felt relief before relaxing his shoulders and then he made way for them to leave the room and into the common one, where Drax, Gamora and Rocket seemed to be right at each other's neck.

— "…it is simply not a plan, Rocket." — he heard Gamora as he turned to his left finally reaching their destination.

—"Then by all means, why don't you try it. Bet you can't even get half a plan goin'." — came the angry answer from the sitting raccoon.

Peter leaned over the wall with his hands crossed over his chest while he watched the scene develop in front of him: Gamora and Drax stood right beside the sitting raccoon, both with their hands resting over the table as they stared at some papers over the table. They seemed to have been arguing for a while, because Gamora's face was already looking as if she was going to murder someone and the density of the atmosphere had increased at least three times.

— "Uh…" — he began and coughed a few times to get their attention.

Rocket's ears jumped to the air at the new voice and soon flattened when remembering when he had last heard their captain's voice. Both stared at each other for an awkward moment, leaving the rest of the team out of it as they communicated in a very simplistic matter.

Rocket diverted his eyes to the side, something that Peter knew _meant "I'm sorry but I ain't sayin' it out loud"_, before he turned back to those blue eyes. Peter smiled at him _"Yeah me too…"_ and soon the awkward moment vanished.

Peter still felt guilty about how he had snapped at his friend back then. He knew Rocket had been some sort of captain before when he had been responsible for Groot, so he knew he had meant well when he had yelled at him the other night. He knew he was just trying to be concerned, in his own weird way and Peter should have been able to handle it as he usually did. But he had snapped, he had been tired and with a devious fever that had consumed all of his patience. He had reached his limit, a very high one, but a limit none the less and he had attacked a friend.

He shook his head as he approached them, barely registering the way Gamora was looking at him before he patted Rocket on the head — something he did not like and cursed about —before promising to make it up for the hairy little mammal.

— "So, what do we have here, uh?" — he asked as his eyes turned towards the table where he could see a lot of papers scattered around.

— "Well, after you decided to leave, you a-hole, I quickly managed to design a bullet proof plan."

— "I would not think this paper of yours is bullet proof, my fury friend." — Drax spoke as he lifted the small paper in his big blue hand and stared at it in confusion.

Peter turned towards Drax for a second with wide eyes and a raised eyebrow, but decided against explaining things to him as he had a lot more to focus on right now.

— "Why you… just give me that, you damn creature!" — Rocket yelled as his paw grabbed a hold of the small paper and left it back where it was.

— "I would not say it's a bullet proof plan either. I would not call it a plan at all." — Gamora interrupted as Peter carefully stared at the sheet in front of him.

—"So… a bomb?" — he asked wishing he had not sounded so mockingly against it. —"You do realize we need the information inside the building, right?"

Rocket mumbled something as he glared daggers at everyone. He had tried his hardest after Peter had left him with all this responsibility and he had come up with nothing. This, was their best option.

— "I told you he was not going to like your plan." — Gamora continued while the tension began rising again. — "It is not even a plan, it's more like an idea."

—"Like I said before, I'd like YOU tryin' princess."

— "Woow, guys, enough fighting!" — Peter intervened quickly. He was feeling the headache beginning to make an appearance but he pushed it away for a moment as he tried to remember all the possible plans he had had the night before. —"Look, Rocket's right…" — he rolled his eyes at Rocket's smug face but continued his thought —"…about the landing, we need to land at least a few kilometers away or else the cameras will see us. About the bomb thing, I'm sorry but it's out of the question unless we can figure out where exactly this disk is. So I say we make teams, one that destroys the cameras and keep the guards outside while the other team goes inside."

Silence.

— "That's your plan? Land, get in, get out and hope we don't get blown away?" — Rocket started.

— "It is barely a concept." — Gamora added, siding with Rocket on this one.

— "Not even 12%" — Rocket continued.

— "It is more than a concept…" — Peter defended himself as he ran a hand over his sweaty bangs. —"Besides, it's better than pretending the disk will miraculously survive a bombing and fly towards our hands while in the middle of the debris."

— "What is this disk that can fly you talk about?" — Drax asked.

— "No, not flying… I meant… it's a metaphor, like… urg, never mind." — Peter said as he leaned on the table —"Anyway, it may not be 100% a plan, but it's the best we've got."

— "I am Groot."

— "Hey! Don't side with him!" — Rocket yelled as he threw his paws in the air —"He is going to get us all killed! Our best chance is to throw that bomb, let it kill the big old saliva guy and then hope the disk doesn't get lost in the middle of it."

— "I am Groot…" —Rocket turned to face his friend and for a second he stayed silent, but before anyone could say anything he sighed.

—"I know, I know." — he said and shook his head to the sides slowly. —"So… in and out and hope for the best, uh? I've followed worse plans…"

Peter smiled at him with sympathy as he watched the poor deflated being move away from them and probably to his room.

With that problem taken care of, Peter turned to the chair and sat down tiredly. His body was beginning to ache again and his stomach growled. When had been the last time he had gotten any food into his system? Or water, for that matter. He knew he should eat, but he knew it was most likely he would not tolerate anything as of right now. To forget about his predicament, he decided to focus on the task at hand and began moving the sheets of paper around hoping to get a better plan or at least a back out plan.

He was so into it that he didn't realize someone was staring at him with narrowed eyes until she had smacked the table with her hands, startling him as he almost fell to the floor.

— "Woow. What the hell was that for?!" — he yelled but shut up as soon as he saw Gamora.

—"Something is wrong with you." — she stated. Not ask, but stated and sweat began forming under Peter's shirt. He raised an eyebrow with fearful eyes as he felt himself being examined with watchful eyes. —"Have you eaten anything?"

—"Uh… yeah." — he said awkwardly as he scratched the back of his head.

— "When?" — she continued as she was accustomed already of Peter's half-way truths.

— "Uh… I don't… know?" — he replied slowly, taking every move of her body into account as he feared his head would be taken off pretty soon.

She rolled her eyes at him as she stood and gracefully moved towards the kitchen area. Peter turned towards Groot for help, but the big tree had already left the area towards Rocket's room, probably so as to not break his promise to Peter.

— "Here, eat this." — she ordered as a sandwich was placed right in front of him and as soon as his nostrils felt the pleasant smell, he knew he was not going to be able to. —"You need to rest and relax, Peter." — she continued in a gentle tone —"We can take care of the Milano for the next few hours until we arrive to the site. You can trust us… me."

For a split second Peter wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to confide in his friend and teammate about how much pain he really was in and that the lack of food was really far into the list of problems he was having now, but what kind of captain would he be then? He was supposed to be strong, he was supposed to be the one keeping everything together and depending on someone was what Yondu had told him not to do.

Yes, he trusted them. Of course he did, but if he was truly honest about it he had barely known them for a couple of months. They were dangerous and far stronger than him, so why would they need him for anyway? They could all gang up on him and kill him in a second if they wanted. Take the Milano with them and be the Guardians of the Galaxy without Star-Lord. So why haven't they done so? Probably because he was useful, right? It wasn't because they were friends… Rocket himself had said he did not consider them friends once, so even though he knew deep down that they would never harm him and he could trust them, it was better for him to not get them into a situation where they needed to think about that, right?

No, he was not going to prove everyone correct. He was not useless and he didn't need a babysitter. He was fine as he was and after this mission he could take care of himself and rest, but now… now he needed to be useful. Get his mind and body into action and pretend everything was okay.

—"You know what?" — he gave her a smile as he stood up from the chair. —"You are right. I am a bit tired and all of that, so I'm just going to go to sleep for a bit." — he said and turned while waving his hand at her —"Wake me up if you need anything!" — he yelled and did a little dance on his mind as he successfully distracted Gamora enough from her concerns and even left the sandwich right there, which she would probably not see for a bit.

He closed the door after him and sighed. His body was begging for the rest, but his mind was still worrying about the big old greasy blue dude that could make huge holes into their skin with just a touch.

He moved to his bed and lay there watching the ceiling again. 4 hours and they would arrive at the planet. Four hours before they got to the freaking Sahara desert and walk to the building. Two teams: Rocket and himself… Gamora, Drax and maybe Groot. Yeah, that was the best… and with that thought in mind, he drifted off to the sleeping realm.

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><p><strong><em>You liked? Comment (good or bad I will take all in): Next chapter the mission starts! Wonderying how much whumpage is going to happen? You just wait and see..., because you might never be able to guess.<em>**

**_Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey there! A new chapter is here, yay.**

**I apologize for the horrible mistakes on the last one. I forgot to read it before posting it -.- but thanks for the people that commented about it, it really helps :) **

**So emm… welcome to the new 5 followers! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I know it's longer than the others, but I just *sighs* I can't seem to make them shorter. I really envy the people that can write one-shots. A story in 2000 words? Gahh, even if I try I can't seem to do it. **

**Anyway, hugs and kisses for the reviewers, you always make me smile and I'm glad to know that you are liking this story so far. Hopefully you'll still like it after this chapter.**

**So here it is! Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

— "Wake up you old grandma! We're here!" — he heard someone yelling right at his face.

He turned to the side to avoid the damn noise that was cracking his skull open, but time pushed itself into his consciousness as he realized who it was and what was going on.

— "All right, all right… I'm coming." —he replied quickly as he pushed himself from his bed feeling even more tired than when he had gotten there in the first place. —"We really need to get you into right manner classes, Rocket. Jeez…"

— "Tskk… boo-hoo, you feelin' tired there? Well too bad! We need to get goin' or else we might not make it there in time, Quill." — the raccoon replied disregarding the painful expression on Peter's face before he pushed himself off of him and began walking to the door.

— "Relax, man! I'm right behind you." — he replied with half a smile before getting his red leather jacket on. His footsteps seemed a bit slurry for someone like Peter, someone that could dance better than most creatures on the universe and for a moment Rocket vacillated about the reason behind it, but all it took as a hard big strong yawn from Peter to make him hide his worries deep within his chest for the time being.

— "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say Quill." — he tried to antagonize him, but the lack of anger behind his words just made it all sound kind of cute, not that Peter was going to say anything about it.

If it had been Peter's decision, he would have attacked the next day so they could actually organize everything, but time was not on their side and any second they stayed there meant a higher chance of someone finding them and using their bones as an art design on their walls.

He was worried as images of his nightmares ran through his mind and he barely noticed when they reached the common room — actually, he didn't really notice as much as he collided with Rocket, making him fall to the ground with a big thud.

— "Hey! Look where you're goin' before I **make **you." —was the menacing response he got from Rocket before he was able to push his hands up in a very pacifistic way.

— "No need to make a cheese out of me, pal." — he quickly added while swallowing hard due to his sore throat. —"I really don't need more holes than I already have."

Rocket simply rolled his eyes as he padded his suit as if taking, the none existing dust, out of it.

Peter sighed as he passed a hand over his hair and for once in his life didn't even bother about how messy it looked. His mind was actually somewhere else, almost in a panic as he was realizing just how fucked up he actually was. His sight was disturbingly weird, as if he was looking from someone else's eyes and had no control of where they stare at. His body felt cold and hot at the same time and he could already feel sweat coming down his spine: slowly moving from his shoulder blade down the center of his back, from vertebra to vertebra until it was lost to his nerves almost at the edge of his pants.

His hands were not shacking anymore and he was able to actually breathe without a problem, but how long was his body going to be able to keep up with this before it succumbed to the dangerous symptoms he had been dealing with for the last couple of days?

He could see from the corner of his eye that Gamora was already dressed up in her tight black leather pants, her hair dancing around her back as she prepared her numerous weapons for the fight ahead and Drax, well Drax was just sitting there shirtless — they really needed to find a shirt his size soon — his tattoos proof of all the heartache he had had during his lifetime. They were marks just like the ones on Peter's body or the ones on Rocket's back: proof of their outcast status in life; but a ranking that had finally proven useful as it was this common ground that had actually made them friends and be there now, under the same roof.

They were all broken dolls that had tried their hardest to get fixed, but every time they had trusted some craftsmen to do so, they had been taken apart and gotten back together the same way… or worse. And that was why they all depended on each other, ones probably more than others: they needed each other to remind themselves that they were not alone, that it was okay to be a misfit in the universe, because who the hell invented "normalcy" anyway? It was overrated and useless in this vast universe, yet it was a shadow that had marked them constantly. They were never taken seriously, always trying to prove themselves to the rest so that they could have a spot in life and finally, they did. They finally had a place, a place with each other.

So now that Peter was in a better position to actually process things, he was starting to regret not saying a single word to them about his, his little issue. Yes, he still thought it was a simple virus that would pass just like any other, but the fact that he could be risking their lives due to his stupidity, once again… well, it was not really an outlaws way, right?

If he had been on his own he would have probably not gone through with the mission, but even if he had done it, it would have meant only his ass on the line and to be honest about it, it was kind of the usual path for him. He was used to being the bait on Yondu's team and after he got away he had decided to keep risking his life, because why wouldn't you? Why wouldn't you live on the edge of the cliff when there was nothing keeping you out there anyway? But now… now he had friends to watch for and maybe it was not very captain of his to pretend to be in top condition, right? Or maybe it was… oh God, he was really having a brain meltdown. Feelings of "compassion"? Regret for being selfish? Yondu would kill him if he saw him right now.

Yes, Peter had always been more "_I actually care about others" _than Yondu had liked, but never like this. He helped others when he had the time to do so, and joked to ease the tension, but to actually put someone else before his own safety? Nope, not on Peter's book. He had always treated girls like a fun thing to be used and left behind, probably because he didn't think he was up for the challenge of an actual relationship, but that was not the point. The point was that he was selfish and had always acted in his own best interests. Yes, he had wanted to change the ravagers life and all, but never to the point of being a hero… right? He never thought of himself as a guy that would risk everything for the greater good but in the past few months he had risked his life for the universe sake — though he kept telling himself he had done it because without the universe, well, he was dead as well — and helped his friends more times than he could count, so maybe he actually was? Only the thought made him cringe. He really needed to think about this once they were out of this forsaken place.

They had landed an hour ago in the middle of the desert. Everywhere they looked it was just hot yellow sand around. The wind would sometimes come and cover the Milano for a bit. During those moments they were barely able to see anything, and wondered what would happen to them if one of those air currents decided to play a joke on them and attack while they were in the middle of their journey.

Besides that, they had already taken care of almost everything: Gamora had locked the doors with a code that only they knew, while Rocket had finished a few bombs for some apparent backup plan only he knew about and Drax and Groot had cleaned and prepared all the weapons. Yes, they were ready, without him. So maybe they… didn't need him?

He bit his lip trying to figure out what to do: chicken out and stop a possible massacre his own sickness might provoke or just try and hope for the best? He wished he had more time to decide, but as Rocket had said, they needed to move and fast. They had arrived with about two hours left of sunlight and they needed to arrive there before nightfall or else it would be too complicate to see and organize their attack.

— "Shit… uuh, guys?" — he began but was stopped by their glances and the deep feelings he got from them.

Ever since he was a little guy he had dreamt with the moment when he would stand in a place and matter. No, he was not a needy person that had to depend in other's opinions to actually feel good about himself; the truth was far more instinctive: he wanted a reason for his existence. He wanted to think he was there for more than just using oxygen and turning it into carbon dioxide. There had to be more to it than that, right? More than just living and dying, more than just wondering the universe until he passed away without anyone noticing. And now, while he stood in front of the others he knew. They all looked at him with an _I-will-follow-your-lead-just-say-the-words_ expression written all over their faces… they need him, they needed him as much as he needed them, before for once, they all mattered.

Time stopped for a second before he was able to grasp the meaning behind those looks, but after he understood, his decision was made. He changed his position to a more relaxed one and cracked his knuckles in a _very-disgusting-Terran-like-way,_ as Gamora would put it.

—"Everyone knows the plan?" — he asked and took a few seconds on each one of them until they nodded with determination. —"Good, then let's kick this one to the curve, shall we?"

* * *

><p>Peter's mind was still on the verge of a crisis as he quickly ran to his bedroom for his missing Walkman. He had left it there a while ago, mainly because he could not manage to listen to a single tune without feeling as if his head was being crushed into a wall, but as Gamora had noticed, he was left with no option but to retrieve it and pretend to listen to it.<p>

They had spoken quickly about the "_in and out, let's hope for the best_" plan, as Rocket had put it, and given five minutes to everyone before they moved outside towards their target. He was in charge of remembering little details they had managed to extract about the building and guide Rocket towards the center of the fifth floor, where they guessed the disk would be.

How could he do it when he was barely able to stand was beyond his own understanding, but he hoped adrenaline would kick in as soon as a gun was pointed at him and like always, manage to stay alive long enough to survive this one.

Ready to go, he turned around quickly but lost his footage as soon as he hit something hard. He cursed as he fell to the ground, his gun painfully sticking into his side before he was able to place it correctly in his belt.

He was ready to yell at whoever was there pretending to be a freaking door when he watched a wooden branch filled with tiny leaves approach with a cup of something he could easily describe as the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen in his life.

The liquid was green and of a consistency that could only resemble mucus of some sort — and he was pretty sure he did not want to know if his line of thought was in fact correct or not — but the worst part was not it's colour but the smell. The volcanic smell of alcohol mixed with cherries and apple that disintegrated every hair in his nostril. If he had thought he was not going to vomit anytime soon — because who would vomit with no food on their system? —he had spoken way, way too early.

—"Uh… not to be rude or anything, but would you please get that horrible stuff out of my way before it kills me?" —he said almost feeling the bile moving up from his stomach.

He turned his face to the side and place a hand over his mouth as his body began begging for something to leave its system. This was definitely not a good way to start the mission.

— "I am Groot…" — the tree spoke with a gentle tone, but the cup did not move from its place.

—"Oh, you have got to be kidding me…" — Peter whispered more to himself than anything as he realized why Groot had that… that cup of Satan right in front of him. —"I am so** not **going to drink that."

—"I… am… Groot…?"

— "I know, I know… I promised but, seriously? Could you not find something more like orange juice? Vitamins are good for your body as well, you know. Or really, **anything** would be better than this, this thing." — he tried to fight it, but he knew it was a lost battle. Groot was there to help him and he had actually promised him he would drink anything if he said nothing about his little issue, so there was truly nothing to argue about, he was doomed.

_Fuck me…_

He sighed and stood on shaky legs without taking his eyes from the deadly cup as if it was going to become alive and throw itself into his mouth to kill him. He bit the inside of his cheek as he glanced at Groot in the hopes of finding some sort of weakness in his features, but he found none.

_Fuck, shit, fuck, fuck…_

— "Ooookay…" — he took the cup in his right hand and was about to move out of the room when Groot got into his way. He raised an eyebrow at the tree and then rolled his eyes as if knowing what he was about to say —"Yeah, yeah, yeah… You do not think I'll drink it, do you? You think I was about to throw it in the sink of the bathroom, uh?" — Groot simply nodded and Peter sighed defeated — "And you would have been right. Fine! I'll drink it!" — he said frustrated at how good they actually knew him. He really needed to hide things before they figured every single hair and wrinkle at the back of his neck. He was not used to people prying on his business, but maybe this was how friendship worked? —"Bottom's up!"

It travelled from his mouth to his stomach in seconds, but they were the worst seconds of his entire life. It tasted as it smelt, but did not leave a nice burning sensation on your tongue. On the contrary it was as if it was stuck there and would not leave at all. His facial features twisted in pain and disgust as he prayed for it to stop.

_Not going to puke, not going to puke, think of it as cake, yeah, the most liquefied and disgusting cake in your entire life… nope, not helping…_

Finally it was done, though he knew the taste would last longer. He shook his head and made a sound almost like a puppy that was being punished before he left the room, without noticing Gamora walking right towards Groot and the cup on his hand with a concerned expression on her face.

* * *

><p>As soon as they left the Milano, Peter and Rocket wanted to go back. The air was dusty, lacking any water particle it was supposed to have. It was as if with every breath you grew drier than the second before. It was torture.<p>

The atmosphere was good enough for everyone to be able to survive, so they did not need masks of any sort, but the fact that dust got into their eyes constantly made Peter wonder if they should have brought some masks with them anyway. He could use his own helmet, but deep inside he knew he couldn't leave Rocket to suffer on his own, so he decided against it.

Gamora was undisturbed by the heat around them as her body was designed to support the worst places in the universe; Drax had muscle and the colouring of his skin protected him from the penetrating sun burns while Groot, well, Peter had no idea how he functioned, but he seemed just fine. Rocket and himself on the other hand, that was another story: the little mammal was sweating in places Peter did not want to talk about — or see — and the amount of panting was alarming. Peter was sweating and his face was burning from the sun, or the fever, he was no longer sure about that one, but he kept moving, one foot in front of the other.

He hated the fact that he was wearing leather now. Who thinks about black and red big leather clothing when going into the middle of the desert? Only Star-Lord… yup, that much of a complete morron he was. Yes, his suit did help him to move around in space and awarded him protectiong, but right now he would rather be naked than safe.

But at least, Peter was feeling better. He had successfully not puked the thing Groot had given him and he was finally being able to walk a straight line. His headache was almost gone and the burning of his throat was100% gone, though that last one he swore was because of the mucus still in there.

Navigating on dust was not easy: everywhere they looked at was the same as the other side. Left or right meant nothing when there was no way to distinguish them, but luckily they had brought an electronic map and so they kept walking and walking behind Gamora, who had the map, wishing for it to finally stop.

They kept walking in silence for almost half an hour before Peter began thinking this was not such a good idea, but he was taken out of his own mind in a split second when Drax approached him.

— "I have not seen you in our training sessions lately." —Drax spoke in a low voice as they kept walking under the dying sun.

—"Uh… yeah… about that…" — he replied uncomfortably. He really did not want to have this conversation, or any other, right now. He smirked and patted Drax's back before continuing his line of thought — "…Well I had to give you some leverage so you could keep up with me, right?" — he said as he placed a hand over his six-pack —"It's no play in the park, if you know what I mean."

Drax stopped walking as he stared incredulously at Peter. He raised an eyebrow and was about to speak but before he got the chance to, Peter began laughing, a genuine heart melting laugh.

—"Don't worry, big guy! It was just a joke."

He kept walking while Drax stared at the back of his form as if trying to actually understand the weird Terran. How he had survived this long was a mystery for the destructor.

—"A joke… I did not hear laughter from anyone but you…" — he said more to himself as he began moving, one foot in front of the other, leaving a trade of sandy holes behind.

He was about to shout at Peter when he realized they had all stopped on their tracks. He blinked a couple of times half closing his eyes to look better at the surroundings, before he realized they had arrived at their destination.

They could already see about thirty guards around the building. It was huge, bigger than Peter had expected and adrenaline soon pumped through his veins as he realized they were actually going to do this. They were really going to try and breach the toughest place on this part of the universe. Crap.

They hid under some sort of metallic junk that was around, Peter and Rocket almost melting at the site of a shadow to cover their poor backs, but they did not have enough time to relax and recover, for they needed to act quickly.

— "Okay… Gamora, Drax and Groot go to the right side of the building and do whatever you need to do to distract them while Rocket and I enter through the left one." — Peter whispered.

—"That is the worse plan I've ever heard!" — Rocket quickly commented.

It was probably the heat and the sweat covering his brow, but Peter thought for just one second how good the raccoon would look as a blanket. A nice warm blanket.

—"Well next time you figure out a better plan, all right?"

—"I've already got one. Let's bomb our way into that place. Easy way in, easy way out."

—"We already talked about this, Rocket… we can't bomb our way into the facility if we do not know where the disk it."

— "Spoilsport."

Peter rolled his eyes and hung his head low not really understanding why the hell they were talking about this again. The plan was simple, so why,** again,** they were discussing it? They literally had no time to do this.

He bit the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes tightly trying to remember that they were tired and maybe Rocket, with the amount of fur he had, was taking it worse than the rest. He turned his eyes to Gamora pleading her to interrupt, but she seemed more preoccupied with not getting caught than the conversation that was taking place.

It was in that moment that his throat contracted and he had to cough. It was a dry cough that directed their attention towards him completely, but it ended quickly enough for him to simply shrug it off.

—"The air, you know." — he explained and they seemed to buy it, because only Groot shook his head before their attention was back to the building in front of them. They became serious immediately, all knowing the risks behind the plan. —"In the count of three… one…two…"— but before he said three, off they went, leaving a not so stunned Peter behind, as they usually did.

He shook his head only a second and then quickly pushed Rocket to the side as they began running towards the left part of the building. He heard yelling from behind and soon, all hell broke loose.

He wanted to turn around and see how the others were doing, he wanted to be there for them if they needed him, but his feet kept pushing to the other side for he knew they were risking their lives for the mission and the sooner Rocket and himself found the disk, the better.

Laser weapons were fired, screams of probably dead guards were heard, but he kept going. The sand submerged his feet to their ankles and it took his entire body and energy for him not to fall. He pushed his aching muscles to the limit as he kept running, feeling the sweat already soaking the back of his neck and torso. His mouth was dry as the air and his eyes were red from all the sand that was invading them, but it did not slow him down.

He glanced at Rocket who was beside him when there was a sudden sound around them: it was like an ambulance siren and with wide eyes Peter realized what it actually meant: an emergency alarm.

_Fuck…_

Soon the doors only a few meters in front of them began closing. They were not going to make it! He swallowed hard and without thinking he grabbed the back of Rocket's suit. He heard yelling and nails scratching at the back of his arm and hand, but he turned it off as he pushed himself as hard as he could.

They were almost there when he heard a guard yell too close for his liking. He had to look to see what the deal was, but before he did, he threw Rocket inside the building. The door was almost closed, so he made a dash towards it before jumping the last few meters.

He was almost there when he felt excruciating pain on his left thigh. It was as if he had grabbed a hot iron bar and placed it hard towards the surface of his muscle. He screamed without thinking, but luckily landed inside of the building just as the door closed.

Hitting the floor with his shoulder was not a great idea either, but it was all forgotten as the pain on his leg intensified.

_Shit, shit, shit…. Not another hole…_

He bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to control the pain to maintain composure. He was panting and his heart was racing, but his mind was focused as he pushed his body towards the wall and a hand gently on his leg.

Blood poured from the injury as his eyes turned towards it. He swallowed hard.

This was not good.

* * *

><p><strong>So that's it! Enjoyed? Please leave a comment so I know what you think about it. I can always change it or re-write it if it's garbage.<strong>

**I'll see you soon! Thanks for reading and everything. =)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey there! So… emm, I've got good and bad news. Good news: there's a new chapter, bad news… and the reason for this new chapter, ehem, I'm kind of going on vacations *hide* and there's no internet there either =/ . ****I actually organized this trip before starting this madness of a story and now I kind of don't want to go as much as I used to because genuinely, I like writing it. But hey! It's only 3-4 days tops I promise.**

**Now, I will say that I SUCK like S-U-C-K writing action and there's action here, so excuse me if it's not as good as it should be. I tried, that's all I'm going to say. *sighs***

**Now, I wanted to say thank you for the followers and the favourites. I'm really happy that you like this story, honestly! And to Eremija and cuddlyhipster holy moly I want to hug you soooo much. You make me feel sooo happy when I read your reviews, honestly! I never thought someone would like the story as much as you both seem to. Thank you thank you thank you!.**

**Finally to answer Saphira Nograd's question umm... I'm sorry if the -"blablabla"- bothers you and I don't really have an explanation to why I do it like that. It kind of stuck with me from my English teacher who made us write dialogues like that =/ so I'm sorry -.- '**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

(EDITED - thanks eremija now I realize my lines cutting scenes weren't there! -.- sorry for that! Sometimes I do hate technology)

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Another guard was down. Gamora stared at the corpse in front of her, but she was too used to them to actually feel anything about them. Since she was young she had been taken from her deceased family and trained to be a deadly weapon. She had been tortured, manipulated and hurt in so many ways that she wondered why it did not show on her skin. Her green skin almost seemed perfect and impenetrable; why it was not tainted with scars like Peter's, was a mystery even to her.

She never knew friendship, freedom or love. Her so called father had made sure of that and for a long time she wished she was dead. She wished she could actually drop dead one second or that the pain was too much for her body to handle and just die. She never thought about suicide though, mainly because she was too stubborn and filled with the thought of avenging her family to do so and now, thinking back on it now, she was glad she hadn't.

She had met them in the most weird way ever, thinking they were really under her in physical and intellectual abilities yet they had grown on her and now, now she considered them her friends. She liked arguing with Rocket, she liked talking to Drax about his past and their differences, she liked Groot's way to make her smile and she even liked Peter's dancing and singing. They were close to her heart now and that was why she was fighting this mission.

Turning to her right she ran as fast as she could before jumping and making a double spin in the air. She placed a knife with enough force to penetrate the guard skin before she dropped to the floor, her enemy no longer alive.

She hit another one in the head while she seemed to be dancing around them with ease. She kicked another in the gut before Drax grabbed him from the back and broke his spine as if it was made of butter.

They smiled at each other for a split second before turning again to the battle at hand. There were at least twenty more guards around them, but they had each other's back, so she knew they would survive.

— "I… AM… GROOOOOOT!" — came the yell of excitement from their tree-like companion and the fight continued.

Who would have thought that they could have form a team like the guardians of the Galaxy? Who would have taken a look at them and think they could be a good mix? But in the end, they were. They complimented each other in ways no one would ever understand.

— "We are counting on you, Peter…" — were her last words before she jumped towards another guard with her knife shining with the light of the last rays of the dying sun.

* * *

><p>Rocket was infuriated. How could that damn human just grab him like a pet and throw him inside?! What was he thinking?! He pushed himself up from the floor and took a long look at himself before acknowledging that at least he was not injured.<p>

— "You ridiculous, stupid, a-hole Terran! What were you thin…?!" —he yelled before turning, but as he did he was found with a scene that made him eat his own words. His eyes widened as his ears were raised with surprise.

Peter was with his back towards a wall in a corner of the hallway grabbing his left leg with both hands and a pained expression all over his features. Blood was soaking both his hands and his breathing was too hard for Rocket's liking.

— "Wooow, Pete… what happened to ya?!" — he asked in a whisper as he approached the aching human.

The laser weapon had landed a nice shot in the middle of his thigh. It was only 1 or 2 centimeters deep, but it was at least 1o long and 4 wide. It was a horrible gash as it had shattered most of the fibers of his left vastus lateralis and every time it tensed — which was basically every time he moved or put pressure on it — the fibers would pull at the wound making it extremely painful. He knew that every time he would walk on it, the muscle would be needed, but right now he needed to think of how not to bleed to death rather than how to walk on a straight line.

Peter smiled at Rocket for a moment before he bit his lip and focused on the bleeding. The corners of the wound had been cauterized by the laser, but the deeper parts were freely bleeding out. He needed it to stop so he'd be able to actually try and stand. They were in the middle of the hallway and though he knew no one would be there in a while, they needed to move or else Gamora and the rest might be in trouble.

—"That bad uh?" — he asked Rocket, who raised an eyebrow in confusion. Peter smiled again before turning his head towards his injury again, his bangs hiding the pain in his blue eyes —"You only call me… Pete… when I'm in a really bad shape, Rocket." — he replied to the unspoken question.

— "Well excuse me for worrying you damn Terran!" — Rocket rolled his eyes, but there was no anger in his voice. Hs mind was now filled with unanswered question of how the hell to help his friend with the pain. He was no healer, he was a bomb builder! He was used to destroying things, not mending them. — "Now, let me see it before you bleed out."

—"It's fine, just… fuck, don't press it!" —he yelled with wide eyes as Rocket pushed his hands out of the way and began poking the wound.

— "Mm… you'll survive." — was his only assessment before he turned to the corridor and examined everything around them. He couldn't do anything for him, so he needed to leave it alone before he panicked and made things worse.

—"Well thank you, Dr. Madness." — Peter sarcastically replied with narrowed eyes as the poking had aggravated the injury and it was bleeding again. He took a deep breath before grabbing his pocket knife and cutting a piece of his shirt to wrap it tightly around the wound. — "Next time please let me bleed to death. I'd rather have that happen than you poking around like I'm just a bag of chips waiting for you to grab whatever is inside it."

Rocket rolled his eyes at Peter's over reacting but kept moving around as he carefully examined everything around them: the corridor was long and narrowed, barely capable of letting two creatures walk side by side with a proper space between them. The ceiling was high with only red lights tilting from time to time, but those he guessed where only on because of the alarm still screaming at them from every inch of the place. The tiles were all white making it look almost like the corridor of an abandoned hospital, which made Rocket shiver as it resembled the laboratory he had escaped from.

Swallowing he tried to ignore the images of screaming animals in cages, the smell of chloroform in the air and the amount of strange medical supplies he never wanted to see again. That part of his life would forever be in his mind, but he had to remember he was not there anymore. There was no more pain involved in his usual days, but laughter and a lot of embarrassment and even though he would never,** ever**, say it out loud, he kind of liked it.

He felt peace when he was surrounded by people that seemed to genuinely care and though he was always grumpy about it, it was not because he hated them or was an a-hole — as Peter had once assumed —it was because he didn't know what to do with this knew found happiness. He was supposed to live in the dark of a cage until an experiment went wrong. He was supposed to live an eternity of suffering, not feel the hugs and tears of a friendly hand.

Shaking his head he paid attention to the pained grunt behind him and he turned fast enough to witness Peter standing up. He wanted to go and help him, but he stood there watching… because he knew Star-lord, like himself, would not appreciate to be treated like a poor baby because of a simple injury.

Peter finally got up, sweat forming all over his face as he tried to let the pain go away. He didn't put all of his weight on his left leg and it was already burning, but he kept quiet about it. He was not going to wine and cry about a stupid little injury. Not now, not ever. So he sucked it up for a couple of minutes until he felt he was good enough to try and walk.

He stopped leaning against the wall and tried one step, moving his right leg so as to put his entire weight on the injured leg. The pain shot through his system as his nerves screamed for it to stop. He could feel his neurons connecting as they passed the signal of pain up towards his spine and brain, begging for him to stop, but he couldn't. Not now.

His vision blurred and it started darkening at the sides, but he was not going to faint, not when Rocket was the only one around to tell the story. He would never survive the jokes after it… so he pressed forward.

The bandage was beginning to get soaked, but it was a black strip of his shirt and the pants were red, so he could not tell how bad it really was, all he could tell was that he felt drops of blood —or maybe sweat — moving from the side of his thigh towards the back of his knee, down the calf towards his foot.

— "Ready to go, Pete?"

— "Just… a second… hold on…" — he said in between leg movements and soon his body had realized he was not going to accept the fact he was injured** and** sick, so it might as well try to survive and not go into shock due to the extreme exhaustion his body was getting into. He could barely walk without leaning against the wall, but luckily there was no need to think about no walls in the middle of a building. He would lean on the wall as long as he could, because right now, that was the only way he could pressure his leg into moving.

He smirked happily when the pain became just a sharp pain that he could deal with and nodded towards Rocket before they grabbed their guns and began walking to the other end of the corridor, slowly but safely.

* * *

><p>— "Watch out, Drax!" — he heard a yell behind him, but he turned too late and all he could do was watch a gun being raised towards his head. He closed his eyes expecting the pain on his body, but it never came.<p>

He opened his eyes with confusion, but soon realized why he was still alive and kicking: Gamora had thrown a knife at the back of the guard's head and had successfully killed him in the act. He wanted to thank her, but she had turned her back at him to continue her fight with three other guards and he also needed to focus on his side.

The sun had already set on the east side of the mountains and the temperature had dropped considerably, but luckily to them, neither where troubled by it. The winds were getting stronger and stronger as the sand almost took a form itself, like a monster waiting to swallow them or to make them get lost to never be found again.

It was getting harder and harder to see, but Groot had already thought about it and ignited a few branches that he threw to the air, allowing them to again have the upper hand.

Groot made a shield out of his branches as three guards attacked his body with laser weapons; but his branches kept protecting him, so soon they gave up and tried hand to hand combat. He easily pushed them away with a large branch and threw them to the wall, every body making an impression on the building before they landed unconscious or dead on the sand.

—"Ten more are approaching us from the left side." — Shouted Gamora as they changed their positions, each having the others back.

It was nice fighting with someone else by your side, she thought for a moment as she stabbed another dangerously close guard in the neck. She had always thought of the people fighting with her as instruments to get the job done. She would use them as shields if needed, because she knew they would not hesitate in killing her if they were given the chance. But now, now she didn't even need to think about her sides or back, because she knew there were eyes there watching her every move, so she would not get hurt. It was nice to feel accompanied even in the worst scenarios, because it was that same feeling that made her push even harder.

— "Grrrrrrrrrrrrraaaw!" — came Drax shouting before the new enemies arrived. No one really noticing that the blue acidic guy was nowhere to be found.

* * *

><p>Adrenaline, also known as epinephrine is a hormone and neurotransmitter secreted by the adrenal glands in your body. It acts on nearly all body tissues, with different actions in each of them that make your body ready for action. It is released in stressful situation making your heart beat faster, your lungs increase their respiratory rate and many other effects that kept Peter going right now. If it wasn't for the shock of adrenaline circulating his body, he would have stopped a long time ago.<p>

Whatever Groot had given Peter, he was now thankful for. As they kept walking, Peter really limping, through the narrow corridors Peter wondered how would he had been able to do so with fever, coughing fits, a headache and a wound to the leg. Everyone was depending on him to remember which way to go and to retrieve the disc, so the weight on his shoulders was huge, but not enough to make him panic. He knew he could do it, because his mind was in good shape now and he kept moving his feet as if he had been here before: confident as he usually was during a mission.

There is one thing that Yondu told him when he was by his side that he had really used since the start of his outlaw career: whenever on a mission, even if you don't know shit about it, pretend to be the king of the world. You needed to be confident in every case scenario, focus on what was at hand and just use your brains to get the hell out of there alive. And it usually worked. Peter was really a human that dripped confidence and self-love whenever he was around of people for that same reason. No, it wasn't that he was a narcissistic bastard, but he needed to portrait himself as such, or else someone might think it was okay to screw with him.

If he was truly honest he was indeed a bit confident and yet not. He knew he was good at what he knew and could always find a way to get out of trouble, but that didn't mean he didn't worry when he was on his own laying on his bed. He was like a normal Terran: confident yet not, positive yet realistic, trustworthy but only to some… yeah, definitely a Terran.

He shook his head as he turned to the right and was about to turn again when he stopped on his heels making Rocket crash into his right leg. Peter hid behind the wall and made Rocket do the same as they heard two voices in a language Peter had never heard before, speaking to each other on the other side of the hall.

Rocket prepared his gun ready to make some holes in their skulls while Peter tried to figure out what way they were moving towards.

Time stopped as their breathing increased, adrenaline flowing like crazy into their systems. They stared at each other and Peter raised a finger to his mouth signalizing they should keep quiet. Rocket wanted to attack right away, but he kept his mouth shut and body tight as they waited for the guards to approach.

_Tap, tap, tap._

They were getting near them. Good.

Sweat began accumulating on his bangs as tension grew around them. They needed to get them killed without making a sound or else they might get an entire army surrounding them in the blink of an eye.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Peter placed his gun on his belt and grabbed his pocket knife before glancing at Rocket with a raised eyebrow as if telling him if he knew they didn't need to use a gun for this job. Rocket rolled his eyes at Peter as another none verbal conversation came about.

"_I'm not stupid, you know." _ Rocket implied when he narrowed his eyes, a sign Peter knew all too well.

He smirked and nodded as if telling Rocket he knew what he had meant and then the conversation ended. Both knowing what to do next, trusting the other to actually do their part as well.

The guards finally arrived at their corner and before they had a chance to even acknowledge the mess they had gotten themselves into, Peter and Rocket attacked: Peter grabbed one from the neck and placed a firm arm over his trachea preventing him from breathing before they dude passed out in his arms. Rocket, on the other hand, had a less subtle approach as he climbed the guard's back and pressed a gun to his head while whispering something that made him pale till he looked exactly the colour of the tile floor.

Peter raised an eyebrow at his companion and pointed at his unconscious guy before glancing at Rocket's still alive and kicking one. Rocket simply shrugged before he knocked the guy with a hit on the back of his head, with the barrel of the gun. He smirked smugly at Peter but decided against commenting about it because, well, there might be other guards around and he was not really into getting himself in a cage and laboratory experiments again.

Blue eyes rolled as Peter shook his head in disbelief. Did Rocket really need to show off that much? He smirked at his friend before trying to push the sleeping guard to another room, but the pain on his leg was too much for him to handle. He groaned as he placed a hand on his injured leg. How the hell was he supposed to climb five stories was beyond him, but he didn't want to focus on that right now. When time came, he would figure it out.

— "Need any help there, Quill?" — Rocket asked, worried eyes completely on Peter's movements. He was frightened. The guy had freaking hurt himself to get to the building to retrieve a disc from a mission that he, Rocket, had accepted. No, he was not going to tell anyone that he was actually worried and regretted accepting this damn thing in the first place, but his heart was clutching at his chest, telling him he actually was feeling things about it. He shook his head and decided to get into action: this was no time to worry about being a wuss and sentiments. He needed to act and if that meant pushing Peter to a chair and tying him there so he could prevent any more injuries in the damn Terran, so be it.

He approached the human, who was still stubbornly trying to move the body into another small room to their left and with a gentle paw grabbed his wrist. He sighed before pushing Peter's hand out of the way.

— "Really Quill, we don't have all the time of the world here." — he tried to be obnoxious and mean as always, but the calmness of his voice betrayed him —"Just move out of the way and let real man handle this." — he added as he patted his own chest with both of his paws.

Peter wanted to say something, he really did, but the tiredness of his body had won over his pride. He was walking on a thin line. His breathing was faster, his heart was pounding in his ears and he had a hard time concentrating. Adrenaline could only work so long; so he nodded and leaned on the right wall as he let the poor but smart mammal deal with the 80 Kgs or more, guards.

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><p>Forty minutes. Forty long minutes they had been fighting and though their bodies could last a lot more than that, they were all worried about their partners.<p>

They trusted each other, they really did, but that was the reason why Gamora was concerned. She knew Peter could get in and out of any building he wanted to as long as he had seen the plans once, and he had. And Rocket was smart enough to retrieve the disc quickly with barely a need to think about it, it was as if his paws moved before his brain signaled them to do so. Even if he needed to dismantle five different programs it would take him less than a quarter of the time it would take any other creature in the universe, so why where they not back yet?

Swallowing she tried to concentrate on the fight as another laser shot was directed to her chest. She quickly dodged and glared at the guards that seemed to reproduce as fast as bacteria. They were now using grey helmets that seemed to allow them to see at night and covered their eyes from the dust. They had black equipment over their bodies that prevented any weapons to hit them and damage, so they were now forced to hand to hand combat, not that Gamora minded.

She glanced quickly to her right where Groot was and managed to see the big tree grow a shield of branches again over his chest before he pushed forward towards a group of guards. Her heart melted at the sight, as she knew Groot was only fighting to save his friends. How a tree with a three word vocabulary could have such deep thoughts was a surprise to her once, but now, it seemed obvious just by the look onhis eyes.

Slowly she turned towards the guards, three of them, that were on her territory and placed a hand on her hip as she tilted her head to the side with a raised eyebrow. She knew she was provoking them, but she also knew they had figured out who she was, because they hesitated for a second, and that was all she needed. With a cocky smile she narrowed her eyes and began moving towards them, her knives tightly on her hands before she became a shadow of the night.

* * *

><p>Thank the lords of the universe for fat and lazy creatures, that's all Peter had to say when they reached the center of the infrastructure and found a big nice elevator. It was controlled by a sensor, but that didn't stop Rocket one bit.<p>

Peter leaned over the wall with his back at his friend and a gun held on his right hand as he kept glancing to every side of the corridor while the little being worked on the controllers. His brow was sweating and he could feel the lonely drop moving towards his eye, dropping to his eyelashes and then descending to his cheek where it got lost. He shook his head; he needed to focus in more important things than sweat! His mind was playing tricks on him and it worried him. There were still on the first floor, sirens were all around and gosh he was hungry, did he say that? His energy was so low that he knew if he stopped now or blinked, then he would fall asleep like the guards they had left trapped on that left room… or was it on their right?

— "One more second, Quill. I've almost got it." —he heard behind, but he only managed to nod, which he knew was useless because Rocket was probably not looking at him while he spoke.

Soon, he heard a _"yes!"_ and some doors opened before he was almost dragged inside of a very cool and cold tight space. He leaned over the wall again, while Rocket pushed the bottom to the 5th floor, and concentrated on his breathing.

He smirked. This was such a mess. He was losing a lot of blood, and somehow it all seemed funny in his head. He had promised not to fuck this one up and guess what he had done? Fucked it up! Ha! What a looser… he really was a mess.

He swallowed hard and coughed as his throat closed on him for a second before he decided to hum, because, why the fuck not? His headache was gone due to Groot's disgusting beverage and he was pretty sure things were going to get uglier when they got to their destination, so… why not enjoy the ride while it lasted? And soon the humming became singing.

— "I'm an alligator, I'm a mama-papa coming for you. I'm the space invader, I'll be a rock' n' rollin' bitch for you. Keep your mouth shut, you're squawking like a pink monkey bird. And I'm busting up my brains for the words…" — he sang as he tapped his fingers on the wall to make the background music heard all around them.

Rocket raised an eyebrow at his teammate and wondered if Peter had somehow hurt his head when he jumped towards the entrance door of the building. Who the hell sings when in the middle of a deadly mission? Oh right, he did.

He wanted to yell at the guy and scratch his face with his fingernails to get him into the zone again, but as he kept singing, the tension stopped. He knew that song, he knew all of Peter Quill's songs by now and somehow, it was relaxing. The elevator kept moving up and they still had a few minutes or so until they arrived, so why not enjoy them? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before settling on that idea.

—"Uh… you really need to learn how to sing, Quill." — he commented with a smile, his foot tapping to the rhythm of the music.

—"Oh, please, you know you love it when I sing." — Peter replied with a grin.

—"Tskk… you wish!"

— "You know… this **is** the worst idea you've ever had." — Peter continued and laughed a little as his mind drifted from the situation towards his hidden garden of music. It was as if he was flying through the universe, not in the dense messed up place he actually was in. —"Next time you decide to get us all killed, I'll get you on a leash."

Rocket growled at the idea, but the atmosphere was so calmed with Peter's humming that he actually understood the joke and didn't want to murder his fellow companion.

—"My plan was better than this one, though. You should have listened." — he counteracted still with his eyes closed. —"Next time I'll just bomb my way in."

—"Mmmm… maybe you should…" — came the whispered response and with that, they both opened their eyes to see the number 5 written on the upper part of the doors. — "Let's just finish this so we can have another brawl so you can bomb your way in, all right?." — Which was his way of saying _let's-not-get-killed-all-right?"_

Two more seconds was all they had before the doors opened and they wasted them by glancing and half smiling at each other. Yeah, they might fight and want to kill each other almost every single day, but when it came down to it, they truly were good friends. They did respect each other's weird and ridiculous plans, because in the end, they only had each other.

They just hoped they could continue this friendship long after this mission.

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><p><strong>Yup, so that's it! You liked? Enjoyed? Too long? Bored? I don't know... please send me your reviews so I know how to improve the next chapter, good or bad reviews I appreciate them all =) <strong>

**Thanks again for taking the time to reading this and I'll see you soon!**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Hola! I'm back from vacations and with a new chapter =). I'm sorry it took so long, but I just got home last night and was way too tired to write, but I woke up early today and finished it. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for the reviews and taking the time to read this little story, it really makes me happy to know someone likes it. **_

_**One note: I didn't know disc and disk are two different things -.- I'm so NOT technological, so I apologize for that. I will change the "disk" into "disc" in the end when I edit it, so just don't mind it. Sorry!**_

_**I hope you enjoy this episode and here it goes!**_

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

The doors opened and as soon as they did Peter wanted to go back in, down to the first floor, out the door into the Milano and out of this frigging planet! He swallowed hard as the back of a huge blue beast stared at them.

_Oh no… this really isn't my day…_

The sound of the elevator doors opening was all the demon-like creature needed to turn around and make them almost pee in their pants. He had researched the Mangarians for this mission, he really had, but this guy… this thing was way over any literature he had read about the tribe. He was indeed 3 meters tall, but the muscles… this guy had no fat or bones, hell no, he was all muscle! He could even see the tendons and veins as he stood there, he really didn't want to see how they popped when he was mad or attacking. His stand was that of a warrior, the rotten teeth being the icing of the cake. He looked ready to be the lead on a destruction of the world kind of movie, but the slimy thing covering his body, making holes on the ground was maybe too much for them to handle.

A glance at Rocket made him realize that he was not the only one thinking that, which meant they needed to act right away or else they were as good as dead.

— "Hey there you… emm… lovely big… squishy blue fella." — he began, sweat already all over his face as his trembling body tried to maintain some sort of composure. The guy only narrowed his eyes at them, making Peter almost jump towards the elevator, but luckily his leg would not allow him to do so. He smirked at the guy and smiled one of his big toothy smiles ignoring the fact that the guy was already making fists with both of his hands, his knuckles as white as they could be.

— "Who are you?" — the blue guy asked in a deep voice with an accent that made Peter understand he was definitely not used to speaking human language, or probably speaking at all.

—"Me? Oh, no one you need to bother with." — he replied as he pointed at himself and shook his head, still with a smile on his face. —"We were just pacing by… you know, admiring the view." — He clapped and glanced at Rocket before speaking again — "So emm, just ignore us, we'll leave in just a second."

For a second there Rocket really, really, wanted to make a hole and burry himself in it. He sighed deeply and wondered why the hell he was still with this guy; maybe he should just handle himself to a slow death right now… at least that way he could die without the embarrassment he knew Peter could give him.

The blue guy stared at them as if really not believing what he was hearing. Peter smiled innocently with his hands raised in a very peaceful way, the pain on his leg pushed deep within his mind. He was trying to get the_ I-will-crush-your-bones-like-pudding _monster confused so as to get time to find a way to get out of this little situation they had gotten themselves into, but ideas weren't really popping into his mind as usual, and time was ticking.

Suddenly, the guy yelled at them, saliva dropping to the floor in front of Peter's feet, making holes on the floor, before it began approaching them quickly. There wasn't much for them to do now but hide from the freaking truck that was coming their way and that was what Peter did: he grabbed Rocket by his jacket while opening a double door on their right and threw both their bodies inside. He couldn't see what was in the room from outside, so he was counting on cushions and acid proof walls, but as he hit the tiles he knew he had guessed wrong.

He turned on the air before landing and watched as the place they had been a second before had been consumed by blue and a hole was where they once stood. He swallowed hard as he hit the floor with his left side. He wanted to scream but the air had already left his lungs as Rocket landed on his chest.

Pain grew as he hit his leg and shoulder. Black dots dancing around as he pushed a table nearby to the floor, and hid both their bodies behind it.

— "Why would you do that?! Twice on the same day! Seriously Quill, I'm just a sec from killin' you." — he heard shouting besides him and smiled, knowing that Rocket had not gotten hurt from the fall.

Yes, he had turned to protect the little mammal from the fall, but it wasn't only because he knew he would probably squish the tiny being if he landed on him. It was also for a more selfish reason: they needed to get out of there and as long as one of them could move freely, they had a chance of doing so. With both of them injured, well… they might as well shoot each other and spare themselves some pain.

— "Yeah, yeah… you're welcome."

—"Welcome?! Welcome?!" — he repeated with shock —"Oh no, Quill, I think we've already stablished throwin' me like a piece of junk is **NOT** something I should be thankful for."

Gun shots were fired at them, but the metallic table seemed to bear them for now. He watched from the corner of his eye that the blue dude had decided to bring an entire party to this dance as there were at least ten dudes in front of them now.

Peter swallowed hard, ignoring the pain on his entire left side as he turned and shot one on the chest before hiding again. He realized they were on some sort of medical area for there were only tall metallic tables and beds around them, which made hiding really useless. His shoulder was screaming and he knew he would be black and blue the next morning, but he also knew nothing worse had happened as his shoulder had collided with the ground.

— "So… ready to explain the backup plan, eh, Quill?" — Rocket asked as he shot another guard on the chest, who landed with a thump to the ground before Rocket focused on another one.

—"Wha…. Backup plan? Who said anything about a backup plan?!" — Peter replied as he hid behind the table as another shot almost caught his face. —"I barely finished this one plan, yet alone a backup one!"

—"Really?" — Rocket asked shocked because for once Peter didn't have a second plan. He always did… since they were together he had always thought of everything to the P. They would often ignore his plan and do something stupid that somehow Peter knew they would and fixed it before they were dead, but now… now they were going to improvise again? Uh… maybe it was not that bad though; they had saved the universe with a 12% plan, a dance off and a fixed gun, right? This should be child's play for them.

He placed a hand on his pocket as he touched the bomb he had brought. He smirked as he showed it to Peter who swallowed hard, knowing that look on the raccoon's face.

— "Okay okay! New plan!" — he shouted over the gun shots and stared at his friend with a grim expression —"We don't get shot…"

—"Well that's a plan!" — he replied sarcastically as another round of shots were fired.

— "You didn't let me finish!" — he counteracted with an annoyed expression —"We don't get shot now. I shoot them to keep their attention while you run to that table there and get us another shield, because this won't last a lot and then… **only then**, you can bomb whatever you want."

— "I get to bomb whatever I want?" — he asked with wide eyes and waited for Peter to nod before placing a paw on his hip. —"I like this plan better." — he finished before focusing again on the guys trying to kill them. —"Though maybe you could be the one running and I back you up."

Peter rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow at Rocket. _Seriously?_ He then changed his features into an annoyed look as he pointed with both hands at his bleeding leg. Rocket's eyes landed on it and he shrugged before turning to get his guns ready.

—"Yeah, yeah, lucky you… I bet you did it on purpose, you wuss." —he muttered with no real anger or truth behind his words.

Peter smiled at his buddy and for a second thought only about how far their friendship had gone: from Rocket wanting to sell his ass to actually working together to not dying in a horrific way. It was kind of sweet and weird at the same time, but the moment lasted just a second as pain erupted from his leg once again. His leg was doing horribly. He was barely able to stand anymore without leaning over the wall, but his perseverance was too big to let everyone down. He didn't need to focus on the fact that he was still losing blood, or the fact that he didn't know how he was going to be able to get out of there, but on the task at hand. Rocket had already decided which table he was going to go after, the nearest one, of course; and was waiting for Peter to react and keep them busy while he did what he was meant to.

The air was so dense it could be cut with a knife. Sounds around them could be heard: screaming, orders about killing them, the shooting, but it was all gone as soon as Peter focused. He didn't want Rocket to get killed and he needed to aid him as best as he could.

He rested his back on the metallic table and counted to three before nodding to his friend and turning to fire at the guards.

He instantly counted three on the right side, the big fat blue dude at the back and four more at the other side just as he fired a round at the ones at the right. He wanted to throw up from watching the saliva dude with bubbles of that disgusting thing on his face, but he focused on shooting more than the dude that seemed to be having a break, because he was just standing there doing nothing.

He kept firing and shot two guards before backing down and hiding as a round of shots almost got his head. He swallowed hard as he watched Rocket who was already at the other table and a feeling of calmness got into his heart: his friend had made it and seemed to be just fine, but the plan was barely halfway there.

— "You okay there, Rocket?" — he shouted through the other sounds while the mammal turned to face him and nodded. —"Good…"— he whispered more to himself than anything as he kept his hands firm on his injured leg and gun. He kept firing feeling happy that he was right handed, because his other side was a mess right now. His head was panicking as surviving mode was beginning to make an appearance. How the fuck was he going to get out of this mess?!

_Don't panic, this is NOT the time or place to panic, Quill!_

He yelled that on his head a couple of times with closed eyes before he felt the tightness in his chest gone and his heartbeat stable. His mind was still there and the fog around it, that had been surrounding him for the last couple of days, was kept in check. He knew time was ticking for the weird soup or juice or whatever Groot had given him could not last a hundred hours, but there wasn't much he could do about it now, right? So why bother thinking about it?

— "You deal with what's in front of you, one thing at a time." — he told himself as he opened his eyes and decided to stop bickering with himself about the situation he was in and just prepare for the next few minutes he had to deal with.

—"Yoo!" — he heard a voice to his right and turned to face Rocket's annoyed expression. He smiled innocently as he had no idea how long he had been on his own mind, but could not have been more than a couple of seconds, right? —"You with me princess or you need another nap?"

He stared apologetic towards Rocket and shrugged it off. He knew the mammal was worried about the loss of blood and Peter's possibility to perform, but Peter needed to reassure him as he had promised not to screw this one up.

— "Yeah, sorry about that. Kind of needed a break from that ugly face there." — he yelled and pointed his head towards the blue guy.

Rocket rolled his eyes as his paws grabbed the legs of the table he was in. He knew Peter was trying to divert things from his own issues, so he just let it go.

— "Whatever, just watch my back while I move this shit towards you." — he replied with a shake of his head. He took a deep breath before moving the heavy table towards Peter, who he knew would probably not be able to move towards him. It was difficult and the sound from the metallic table against the tiled floor was making his poor ears cringe, but he kept going until he could no longer move it. He was still a few meters from his friend, probably two and a half, but his strength was gone and they needed to think of a way to get the both of them there.

Peter watched as Rocket pushed the table towards him for a moment before focusing on his task. He killed another guard before an annoying reflection of light hit his eyes and made him return to his hiding place. He wondered what the hell could that have been and peeked to satisfy his curiosity.

Time stopped for a second as his throat contracted. No air got to his lungs and his heartbeat was gone. Cold sweat appeared and his throat was as dry as the dessert. Fear grew deep down his soul as he realized they were doomed. Soon everything around him moved, but he was too lost to actually understand what was going on. His plan was a no go, he knew that much, but how the hell where they going to get out of there then?! Swallowing hard he turned to face Rocket, who had a plan of his own.

He watched as the little mammal grabbed something from his side, but it could not be his gun, for he had it on his other paw. He swallowed hard as a black metallic device appeared and fear grew stronger in his chest.

The bomb… the fucking bomb!

He tried yelling at Rocket, but the shoots were too strong or maybe his voice was not there anymore, because Rocket didn't seem to acknowledge him at all.

In all honesty the small animal was too preoccupied with the task at hand to even witness anything around him. The small device in his hand could kill the guys in front of them and probably make a hole for them to get around. He had done what Peter had told him to and now, now he could bomb his way out, just like he liked it.

His body was tensed and tired. He didn't want to tell Peter anything, but he had bruises all over his back from the first time Peter had thrown him and he just needed a bath. He wanted to get the hell out of there and he was worried about Groot. His pal was out there and even though he knew he could take care of himself, he just didn't like him being alone.

Peter's brain was in fast mode as he tried to find a way to stop Rocket in time. His leg could barely hold his weight, so would probably take him ages to crawl the meters he needed to get to his friend, who would have already thrown that bomb. He couldn't kill all the guards either as he was almost empty with shots. Stupid laser recharges… He shook his head as he realized he had only one option, one he really didn't want to accept, because it meant a lot more pain.

Pain or the end of the mission? Pain or explaining the new screw up? Pain or the look on Rocket's face when he figures out what happened? He sighed as he passed a hand over his sweaty blonde bangs with the decision already made. He would never again be the selfish bastard he used to be. He had friend now and was a captain, so his wellbeing put first was out of the question.

He gathered all of his energies before turning to his friend who was almost ready to throw the damn thing. He yelled once again to try to get his attention but it didn't work. Yeah, lucky him.

It was then that he placed his left hand on the ground leverage and pulled his body into a better position. He counted to three before pushing upwards and with both his legs — and a lot of pain — he sort of jumped/crawled/look pathetic towards the other table. He shifted in the air so his right arm was up and towards the guards. He shot towards them and for once luck was at his side as they hid, which made it impossible for them to shoot back.

He landed painfully as the air left his lungs, but his brain recovered quickly and he grabbed Rocket tightly. He held him there watchful that he could no longer move before he changed his laying position to a more sitting one.

His leg was screaming from the pain, his left shoulder now probably with some kind of muscle damage, though he could still move it, so it was not dislocated. His hand had landed weirdly as he had used it as a cushion his fall, and it hurt, but nothing worse than the rest of his body. Blood poured from the injured leg, but it was contained by the tight bandages he had placed there before.

Rocket hadn't even realized what had happened until it was too late. He didn't think it was Peter and he tried to get away from whoever had imprisoned him. His claws ripped a bit of skin before he heard the voice behind him, a voice filled with pain and concern.

— "Rocket calm down!" — he heard Peter's usual voice mixed with an unusual panic in it that made him stop.

— "What the… what were you thinking?!" —understanding hit him. Peter had decided he could suddenly fly and hurt himself again! He had done it for what?! What the fuck had made him take that sort of stupid decision? Rocket pushed Peter's arms away and turned angry eyes towards his teammate, but Peter had his closed.

Peter tried to breathe as best as he could for the pain to subside. He really wished to faint now. He really wished for a hospital, but those were things out of the question, so he pushed his body a little bit more and smiled at Rocket before opening his eyes. He could see the awareness in Rocket's face and he tried to reassure him he was fine, but he wasn't.

— "I almost had us out of here, you stupid Terran!" — he heard Rocket continue as shots were fired. —"I followed the plan!" — he yelled as he pointed at himself and then at Peter — "Why couldn't you, uh? You always tell us to follow the damn plan, why can't you do it when I finally decide it's a good enough plan?" — he kept yelling questions for Peter to answer, but the answer he got made him stop on his tracks and his ears flat on his head.

—"Blue fat guy over there… he has the disc hanging from his neck."

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><p>— "What is taking them so long?" — Drax yelled at Gamora as they hid behind some sort of vehicle.<p>

The sun had already settled a while ago and the air was chilling. The light was completely gone and they needed to do the same. They had said this mission would take about an hour or so, but they had been here for almost two and a half and the three were worried sick.

Guards kept approaching them but they all found the same ending: dead in a pool of their own blood mixed with the sand beneath them. It was a sad ending but one that every guard and fighter in the universe knew could happen to them. It was a choice they had accepted when entering their forces, so Gamora was not sad for them, but somewhat proud. They had died for what they believed in, the best way to die for a fighter.

— "I don't know, Drax." — was her only answer.

—"I am… Groot…"

—"We are all worried my friend, but the little one and Peter will survive. They have a tendency to do so." — Drax tried to comfort Groot, but it wasn't really working.

The big tree knew something was wrong. Rocket was an impatient little being that would always try to get everything done as fast as possible. He liked adventure but he was smart enough to end them before they got too difficult. So why was he still in there?

— "We need to trust them." — Gamora continued — "We will fight until they arrive and then we will all get back to the Milano."

Everyone nodded and took a second to compose themselves. They were all tired from fighting, but luckily the only one injured right now was the green female which had a cut on her right arm from a guard that was lucky enough to fire before she saw him.

They smiled at each other before turning to the next round of guards with only one thought in their minds: they would wait and fight for their friends.

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><p><em><strong>So that's it for now! Write if you liked or didn't, I always appreciate reviews. <strong>_

_**See you soon!**_


	8. Chapter 8

**HI! Sorry if now it's taking me longer to update, but I'm back on stupid college, test and all so I don't have the same time I used to. **

**Emmm, I changed the rating for the story because a lot of people have pm me telling me that it's not M, so yeah… I can change it back or leave it as it is (T). I really don't know how to rate something xd. **

**For guest anna, thanks for your review and English ain't my first language either, so don't worry! And lol, I think I have plenty of reviews, as long as one person likes the story then I'm good with it. And thanks for every review, they make me happy, honestly. **

**I am kind of sad right now (dramas are not my forte), so I guess the story might be influenced by that, but I hope it's okay and you like it. So here it goes.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Nope, Rocket was not worried, he was not in panic and he was definitely not going to shoot himself right now in the head. He repeated Peter's words in his mind over and over again as if they would somehow change if he said them enough.

Peter on the other hand was too preoccupied with his own painful experience to actually even bother to ask Rocket if he was okay. His wrist was swollen already, but he could move it gently even if it brought him a little bit of pain. He changed his bandage on his left leg and wished he had put on an ugly shirt, because now his favourite shirt was ruined.

He felt his temperature rising and he wondered if soon the symptoms of sickness would arrive with a kick he was not prepared to handle. He needed to think fast as there wasn't much either could do right now: the big blue dude was screaming and because they weren't shooting at the doors anymore they seemed to be discussing if they should penetrate the small room or not. They had little time to plan something and Peter knew it was all on him.

Since he had been in Yondu's care he had always been the one to plan ahead. He would often find himself in deep trouble and that was mainly the reason why he tried to think of different situations and solutions which had made him who he was now. He was quick to evaluate possible scenarios in his mind, but he was also human and that meant that feelings often got in between his nerve communications, and would dismantle a few of them, just like right now.

He was panicking. He was afraid that any sort of plan would fail due to his own lack of strength and that they would die in the most horrific way possible and it would all be his damn fault. No, it would not be Rocket's fault; it would be his failed plan that had gotten them killed. Fuck being a captain, if he knew this was what it meant, he would have kicked his own ass the minute he had dreamt of becoming one.

How the hell was **he**, who could barely make scramble eggs, getting out of this thing alive? How was he supposed to become the responsible one after all those years of not carrying? Okay, maybe he was reading way into this situation, but for once he just wished he was back on his ship alone and not with an entire crew depending on him.

Okay, enough with the crying!, because even if he didn't like it, he was in this mess already, so he had to do something about it. Maybe afterwards he could just think clearly about what he wanted to do: leave all of it behind and become a lone wolf again or just suck it up and try to become at least half decent at this job.

He closed his eyes and thought about the plans he had seen last night: the building was 10 stories high so they were literally in the middle of the structure. The elevator was also in the middle of building and he could see windows on the back of the small room, so he was sure they were near a corner, possibly.

Suddenly a plan popped into his mind. It was not really a plan, more like an idea or a concept, but if it worked they could get out of this one alive AND with the damn disc to make this trip worth it.

Finally he was back into his own persona and realized a lot had changed around him: Rocket was pacing with his paws gripping his ears so tightly that he feared they would be ripped apart from its body. The guards had advanced a little bit while the big old fella spoke about a slow death Peter really didn't want to think about right now. Things were worse, but he still had faith in his plan, he just needed it to happen.

— "Wow there, Rocket, you with me pal?" — he asked and tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but he pushed it away.

— "Of course I'm here!" — he yelled back —"In the middle of my own death for that matter! All we had was the bomb plan and that stupid big fat fella had to destroy it. We are doomed, I'd tell ya, doomed. And I ain't allowin' them to cut me open again. No way in hell, Quill."

So yeah, Rocket** was** panicking and even though in the aftermath he would completely forget about this moment, Peter knew he had to do something before the raccoon pretty much shot himself in the head.

— "Who said anything about cutting you open?" — he replied trying to get Rocket's attention back —"Listen, we are getting out of here. I've got a plan, alright? Just… you gotta stay with me, man…"

Rocket finally turned to see him and stopped grabbing his ears as they slowly rose with full attention. His heart was pushing itself out of his cavity chest and he placed a paw on it to make it stop. He was worried. He was not a planner but a bomber. He was good at making things go boom, but he was not good at fixing or preparing and now, that was all they needed to survive.

He hated being useless and it would often happen when someone was injured or there was nothing to be repaired on the ship. He would often find himself wondering what the hell he was supposed to do but would relax when a new armory was needed or the wing of the Milano was broken due to some stupid maneuver Peter had tried. Yes, he would complain about it, but it gave him a purpose, one he did not have right now.

—"Okay, I'm listenin'." —he replied with no energy, something that worried Peter deeply. This meant the raccoon had given up and he was not going to allow that to happen.

Another round of shots was fired and they had to wait for it to stop before speaking again. Rocket shot back towards them for a couple of seconds before his attention was back to Peter. Gosh he wanted those guards on a barbecue stick right now!

— "Okay, the plan is easy but requires a lot from both of us." — he began and grabbed Rocket's shoulder before whispering in his ear about the idea he had. The mammal's eyes widened and his jaw dropped with each word that was whispered to him. Had Peter lost his mind? That could kill both of them! — "What ya think?"

—"What do I think? What do I think? HAHAHAHA That is the worse plan I've heard in my entire life!" — he responded as he tried not to think at what was at risk.

—"Well, it's the only one we've got, pal, so you better go do it if we want to get a chance of getting out of here alive."

—"Tskk… the things I do…" — he mumbled but the smile on Peter's face made something grow inside of him, something he thought was long gone: faith, trust and a little bit of optimism. — "So, for this plan of yours to work, we have a 30 second window, not a single second more. Got it?"

Peter nodded. He knew the risks his plan involved, but it was the best they had. In all honesty, he hated the idea that had popped into his mind. It meant to risk Rocket's integrity and he usually tried to avoid hurting someone else. He was worried that he would not be able to make it, but he trusted his heart and gut that told him he could handle it.

—"Alright… let's do this."

He waited for Rocket to back to the other corner of the room before he bit his lip and grabbed his gun. The tiny creature had left his gun on the floor nearby for him to use, but he needed to be careful because he needed to kill at least 4 more guards before he was alone with the big fat one that truly mattered.

He shot the first one easily, the next one took a bit more time but he managed to get the dude in two shots before he had to hide again due to the amount of probable death shots he was receiving. His hands trembled with the effort it was taking him, but he kept going because it was not only his life in the line but his friend's as well.

Two more were down before he heard Rocket screaming to hurry up… yeah, like he wasn't trying to! He swallowed hard as a slow small cough got him, but he suppressed it with sheer willpower as he painfully shifted again and turned to shoot another one in the face, right between his eyes.

Concentrating right now was hard. He was fighting not only the guards but the loss of strength his body was suffering. If it was only him there he knew he would have surrendered a long time ago. Yeah, go figure… Star-lord, the guy that wanted to be known throughout the universe would have given up like a wuss without even a fight if he had gotten the chance, but to him right now, it would have been the best decision. Why suffer so much if no one depended on you? Why try your hardest when nothing really, truly mattered? But things did matter to him, so he fought with teeth and fingernails as he tried to keep up with what needed to be done.

He draw blood from biting his cheek as he shot the last guard, the metallic taste covering his entire mouth before he even noticed it. He smiled to himself smugly as he carefully watched the big dude realize they were all alone now. He hoped the plan worked, he really did, but it was based on the assumption that the blue acidic being in front of him was only that: acidic and blue… and quite stupid.

— "So, it's only you and I now… kind of romantic, uh?" — he yelled trying to make him as angry as he could. He gave Rocket half a smile as to try and comfort him, for he knew his friend was worried about him and he should be, because this was fucking suicidal.

—"Who are you… what do you want?" — he heard the conversation flowing, each word being pronounced slowly making Peter wonder if the dude actually knew how to talk or he just learnt a couple of phrases he would repeat constantly.

—"Time to shine…"— he told himself before he mustered all the courage he could and slowly stood up, just enough for his torso to be shown. He knew that if the big fella wanted to, he could throw acid at his face and just end this, but he had seen something within those eyes that he actually related to: curiosity. The guy wanted to know what they were doing there and he wanted to know how a raccoon and a damn human got in so easily even though it was well guarded.

Well, curiosity killed the cat, right? And this was one fat ass ugly cat.

— "Who are you?" — the man, or thing, asked again with narrowed eyes that told Peter he was not kidding around. He stepped forward into the room just as Peter wanted while Peter raised his hands slowly in front of him.

—"Woow, like I said before, I was just taking a look around. No need to go all… ninja on me." — he smiled easily as he watched as the thing steadily moved forward, not really thinking Peter was anything more than a fly to be squished. —"I am all into letting this go, you know? Walk away, forget about the little incident and move on." — he added with a smirk.

The blue guy was finally standing in front of him and the smell was enough to make anyone sick. The smell of rotten flesh was almost too much for Peter to handle. He gaged a bit, but controlled himself as adrenaline began rushing from his adrenal glands towards his veins and entire body. He stood still, his blood flow rushing down every part to keep his body steady and ready to fight, but the dreadful feeling in his gut was making it difficult for him to stay put and not hide and run.

— "I won't ask you again… who… are… you?" — the blue being spit every word and Peter could feel parts of his body burning as tiny spots of his face were exposed to the acid saliva. He bit his cheek harder than before, the blood flowing freely into his mouth to keep himself steady. It was just like tiny sunburns, he could deal with those, or so he kept telling himself

He glanced at Rocket who nodded before pressing something on the bomb, which began blinking with a red light. He turned his attention back to the smugly looking guy and smirked boldly. He had 30 seconds to do this.

—"Who am I? I'm Star-Lord." — he said and before the man could react he grabbed the disc with a gloved hand. The glove melted instantly and he wanted to get it off, but he had to push it to the back of his mind as a roar was heard and he had to crumble to the floor before a huge punch hit him. He heard a loud crash and soon an explosion followed, but he didn't have time to admire the work. He placed a hand on his boots and started them, boosting himself as he passed right next to the big guy, who almost grabbed him, but was not fast enough to do so.

He felt a tingling sensation on his arm, but was too focused on getting the hell out of there to pay any sort of attention to it. He kept flying towards the new found hole in the building and grabbed Rocket quickly from his orange suit before finally breathing the nice cold air.

The air was cold yet dry. It hit him in the face making his cheeks take a shade of pink it was hard not to notice. His eyes were almost shut down as particles of dust in the air bothered him too much to be able to maintain them opened. He felt like floating, the sounds around him completely gone and replaced by random beats that he guessed were coming from his own erratic heartbeat.

There wasn't a moment like in the movies when time stop and you can look around to find the perfect stop on the ground. There wasn't a moment in which he could actually turn around magically and land in the greatest position ever. In reality, he barely had a couple of seconds before his and his friend's body collided with the solid ground.

Yes, some might say that hitting sand is not really considered solid ground as the particles aren't together in a dense uniform surface, but just like hitting snow is not like hitting a fluffy cotton cloud, hitting sand is not a nice thing either: the molecules of hard rock would hit your body at once, stopping the fall in a second by squishing every muscle of your body, straining your bones as they fought against breaking. The movement would make the sand particles collide against your skin, making abrasions on it as they marked their way through the soft skin and clothes. Yes, it was not a nice place to land on, so in those seconds before the hit he tried to change directions to put his feet and blast his boots forward to decrease the intensity of the fall. Hoping for the best , he hit the ground in a split of a second.

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><p>Gamora hit another guy and broke his neck from behind. Sweat was beginning to form on her brow and she had to wonder whether it was from the stress of not seeing her friends or from the long struggle she had been put through the last few hours.<p>

Her body tensed as another sad guard tried to hit her, but she was not one of Thanos biggest assassins for nothing. She easily avoided the hit, turned around and gracefully finished him off with her knives. It was as seeing a beautiful deadly ballet.

It was then that she heard the bombing. She turned to her left quickly as she witness part of the building breaking apart and immediately guessed who was the one behind it, but fear grew deep in her heart as she wondered why they had chosen to change the plan.

Of course, most of the time they changed from plan A to plan B due to some sort of complication — a complication Peter always called_ "not-fucking-following-the-plan" _—, but what could have made them choose this particular change of plan? Peter had told Rocket not to use a bomb for fear of destroying the disc they were after, so how come had he allowed Rocket to do so? What could have changed so drastically to force him into the only plan he had yelled to them not to use?

She shook her head to clear it before glancing at her companions. It seemed that both of them were thinking the same thing as Groot seemed worried and Drax was frowning so much his eyes could barely be seen.

Quickly, she killed another guard and nodded her head towards the site. She feared other patrols might have witness what she had and would go there to fight instead to where Gamora and the rest were. She needed to know if Peter and Rocket were okay. She was not panicking, but she was almost to the point of no return.

Her guts were telling her to go, to rush to the place and see what was going on, but that would mean breaking lines. That would mean leaving Peter's plan behind, but maybe, just maybe, they were already past that line. If Peter could not follow his own plan, then why should they? A smile grew on her tired face as she decided what to do.

— "Groot, Drax, let's go! We need to find them!" — she yelled, but waited for no response as she hurried to her left, where she had seen the explosion happen.

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><p>Whenever you land, get hit, get tortured, or anything of the sort first thing is to stay calmed. Nerves might make you do something really stupid and turn things for the worst. You need to think and move slowly, for any weird movement might make your body go into shock and put your life at risk.<p>

He repeated those words like a broken record as his blue eyes opened to see the vast sky. He felt pain all over, but he was not sure if it was due to the collision or just because he was in shit loads of pain from before, but he was still alive, that was for sure.

Closing his eyes he focused on the first thing he needed to know, but the one he feared the most: limbs. He carefully moved every one of his limbs just a little bit to make sure they were all there and he had not somehow lost a leg in the intermission. He smiled and made an inner dance as he finished his assessment. No limb missing, that was a good sign.

He opened his eyes again and realized just how much weight he felt on his body, but it was not real weight, but a mental exhaustion that was keeping him from actually noticing his own surroundings. He shook his head barely, as he tried to suppress the pain he was in ,as he considered the possibility of moving and getting the hell out of that place.

Suddenly, he felt someone nagging at him. Someone was actually touching and pressing his left shoulder, making it a bit, — as a whole —, a bit more painful. He tried to take a deep breath, but it hurt on his lower right side each time he did, so he settled with just slow tiny breaths before he finally heard Rocket's pleads.

—"…just answer me, Pete. A simple nod, or somethin'! This ain't what I'm used to. I don't fix things!" — he heard the words but barely registered what they meant. —"You are gonna be okay, you are gonna be okay… don't you worry, Pete, this ain't your end. I won't be responsible for yet another friend gettin' hurt…"

As soon as they had landed Rocket had felt his body pushed into Peter's. The stupid — and hurt — human had somehow managed to prevent him from colliding head first with the ground, but in the process he had gotten himself in deep shit.

The bleeding on his left leg just would not stop. He was soaking the sand beneath him and fuck he was pale. The serenity on his face not helping Rocket feel any bit better. He had seen the marks of the abrasions the landing had done on Peter's face and part of his back, but the true injuries were hidden from him and that made him worry even more, but what was making him sick and almost throw up was the coagulated, painful and disgustingly looking injury on his right arm. The flesh was melted all around, the smell of burn human skin almost unbearable as the acid made its way around the flesh. He didn't know how to fix this, he didn't know what to do, he was not a healer, he was a mechanic!

Peter shook his head after hearing Rocket's voice. He could tell his friend was worried, but he was happy now. There wasn't much pain anymore and he was almost falling asleep.

He smiled and stared at Rocket's eyes, the small being almost turned into stone as he watched the calm stare of his friend. Wet tears clung to his eyes, but he wouldn't let them go… because Peter was **not** going to die. He placed himself over Peter's chest and pressed his forehead towards Peter's, his paws tightly pressing those pale and cold cheeks.

— "Wooow there Pete! You ain't givin' up on us now!" — he yelled, not caring anymore about anything but his colleague. — "Just stay with me… don't let me alone in this shit… Pete… just stay with me! No fallin' asleep, you hear me? If you do, I'll beat the crap out of ya!"

Peter smirked tiredly.

—"Kay… tryin'…" — he whispered but his eyes closed before he could tell them not to.

— "No, no, no, no, no!" — Rocket yelled as his heart was squished right out of his own chest. He was not going to relieve someone dying in front of him, because of him, without him being able to do anything about it. Groot had managed to survive, but he was not stupid and naïve enough to think a human could revive. — "Talk to me, Pete… about anything… just stay with me." — he kept trying to make the human stare at him, but he was already gone.

He heard footsteps behind him. If guards were gonna shoot him, then they might as well do it now, because he was not going anywhere without Peter. He waited for the shot, but what he felt was a gentle hand on his shoulder, which startled him and made him look back. Gamora.

She had run as fast as she could. She had really pushed her body to her limit, but she had gotten there one minute too late.

She swallowed hard at the scene in front of her, but could not believe her own eyes. Peter was still… he was so still it was scary. She was used to him dancing around, moving, singing, doing something even when he was asleep he would mumble weird words and turn from side to side, but now… now he was still and there was so much blood around.

She moved towards them and gently pushed Rocket aside. He couldn't be dead, right? His chest was not moving, or if it was it was barely, because her eye could not catch a single upwards movement. She bit her lip as she tried to assess everything, but it was too much for her to handle. How had he gotten into this shape? She wanted answers, but her first question was one she hoped she was wrong about.

— "I… he… we didn't… I don't…" — Rocket mumbled, his own faith already shattered as he was pushed into a hug by Groot.

— "I am Groot…" — came the soothing voice, but Rocket was too out of it to actually understand the meaning behind them.

—"He tried to…. I don't know… he just wouldn't…" — he tried explaining, but words kept closing on his throat making it impossible for him to make any sense what so ever.

Gamora smiled at him with sadness. The poor mammal had experience loneliness and probably every being he had become friends with in his past had died on him in some horrific way. She felt for him, she understood that pain, but she couldn't do anything for him right now, she had to focus on her unanswered question.

— "Peter?..." — she asked with unsteady hands.

— "Don't touch him!" — came Rocket's cry behind her — "Just… let him be…that stupid human… he just… just let it be…"

She turned to face Rocket for a moment and sighed, maybe he was right, but she couldn't waste any more time. She needed to know and she would deal with the rest later. She turned to face her friend one last time before she placed a hand on his neck.

Nothing. Nothing for a moment, nothing for the next. She felt like crying when suddenly there it was. Faith lifted her spirit as she realized he was not dead yet. She jumped from her place as she turned to Drax and the rest almost with palpable joy.

—"We need to get him to the Milano, NOW!" — she yelled as the joy left her and dread came after: he was alive, but barely and they needed to save him. For once, it was him the one that needed them completely and they were not going to fail him.

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><p><strong>There! Another chapter done. Review, like, follow if you wish to. I'm looking forward for your comments on this one and I'll post as soon as I can. <strong>

**See you soon!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Wow, just wow… so many new reviews, favourites and followers I'm just… in shock right now. I haven't been able to get online due to stupid college stuff so I got to read all the reviews at once and I have to say, thank you sooo much. I'm happy you like the story and I'm trying my best to update as soon as I have a second to spare and also trying my best to not screw the story up -.-'**

**Well, anyway, better get to it, right? Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

Everyone sat in silence. Dark thoughts clouded their minds as they stared at each other without a single thing to say. They didn't know what to do, waiting was not something they were used to and it bothered them. How could there be nothing for them to do? How could they be this useless when they had saved the universe just a few moments ago?

A foot tapped on the floor helplessly, Gamora sighed as the clock ticked, the only other sound in the entire ship. She closed her eyes tiredly and remembered what had happened just a few hours ago….

—"_We need to get him to the Milano, NOW!" — she yelled as the joy left her and dread came after: he was alive, but barely and they needed to save him. For once, it was him the one that needed them completely and they were not going to fail him._

_Drax grabbed the limp body carefully while Groot took care of Rocket, who could barely take his eyes off of his friend. He felt his body completely frozen from the pain deep within his chest: he knew Peter was alive, but for how long? Who could help them if they were in the other side of the damn universe and the healers were days away from there? _

_Gamora narrowed her eyes as she took care of any creature that tried to get to them. The sand seemed to become pavement as their strength grew and they started running towards the Milano. No one spoke as they took care of their own assignments, all trying to come together for a single human that was as pale as a sheet of paper._

_They heard a scream from behind,, but neither turned around. They needed to get to the Milano, they needed to work hard so they could get the hell out of there as soon as possible. Gamora shoot another couple of guards, but never stopped. Another scream was heard, but they kept moving._

_They moved in a single line, Drax in front of them, Groot in the middle and Gamora behind. Rocket closed his eyes as he placed his paws over them wondering how the hell did this happen, but he needed to recover, he needed to get his shit together and he knew it. He swallowed hard as he felt Groot's hands gently covering him from the cold weather outside and he smiled: if they were all trying to save Peter, then he was also going to do his part._

_Finally, they got to the Milano, Drax rushing to the door before anyone could stop him. He placed Peter with all the care in the world on his own bed and stopped. He stared at the deadly looking human with grief on his mind as images of his deceased wife and daughter came alive to haunt him. _

_For a long time Drax had loved and had been happy. He had lived with care and joy with his wife and he thought it could never be anything better, but then came his daughter along: the joy of his life. She was a joyful creature that thought everything was beautiful, even the darkness of the night. She loved starring at other animals and had such a great heart that Drax almost wondered if she actually had a single drop of his personality in her. Yes, life was good, but like they say, you can't expect things to go straight all the time. And then came Thanos._

_After that, his life had no meaning. His heart filled with pain and anger as he wished for everything to just die. He hated smiles, he hated love and friendship as everything reminded him of what he had lost. And soon he let the anger conquer his soul and he let it explode as only one thought got stuck in his mind: revenge._

_Yes, he had done a lot of bad things that he knew he would have to live with for the rest of his life, but now he had a chance to redeem himself. He had learnt to trust again and the pieces of his broken heart had slowly started to mend. He felt better, not really 100% complete again, but he was on the way there and he had people around again, which made him even capable of smiling again._

_But like they say: you can't expect things to go straight all the time and again he had taken things for granted and life had taken a hard punch to his gut as his best friend and captain lay still there making almost no attempt to breathe. _

_He wanted to punch himself, to yell and crash the creature that had done this to his friend. He hated the universe for the amount of hard passages he had to cross. Why some seemed to have joy all their lives was a mystery to him. Who chose who suffered and who enjoyed things to the fullest? Was it possible that this was just a random act? He sighed. He needed to focus on something else than Peter, get out of there and shoot something, because if he didn't, then he would be lost again._

_While Drax placed Peter on his room, Groot carried Rocket to the main room. He didn't know what to do with the mammal, but what he didn't know was that he had already recovered from the shock and pain and was ready for action._

_As soon as he dropped Rocket on a chair, he moved towards the pilot cabin and started the Milano. He narrowed his eyes in concentration as he began pushing different buttons that closed different doors, activated the engines and began rising the ship. He took a deep breath and glanced from the corner of his eye towards Groot, who seemed to be wondering if he should ask Rocket if he was okay or not. Rocket rolled his eyes and shook his head, but said nothing. Groot decided to make a mental note to ask about it later, but right now, there was work to be done._

_Gamora shoot the last guard before she pivoted in her heels and moved to the cabin. She stopped for just a second and glanced at Peter, but she needed to know if Rocket was going to be able to fly on his own before she had a chance to go and see how her friend was doing._

_It took her only a few seconds to realize Rocket was on his right mind and she smiled and nodded before turning towards Peter's room. She was afraid of what she might find in there, but she was the one that knew the most about wounds and how to treat them, so it was all on her to stable the guy and make it out of there alive._

_The room was completely dark when she moved in and she slowly moved her right arm towards the light and switched it on. She swallowed hard as she saw the pain on Peter's features, but was glad to see he was still alive. She wanted to touch his hand, to let him know she was there and everything was going to be fine, but she had a lot of work to do and not much time to do so, so she decided to start as soon as possible and let the feelings lay back for a moment._

_She asked Drax to take off his shirt, jacket and pants. They were all destroyed by now, so he simply ripped them off before he moved to the side and let her do the work._

_Gamora's eyes run through his body as she could see a lot of injuries that she knew how to treat and others she would simply have to improvise on. She started with cleaning the bullet/laser hole on his left leg. The skin was burnt and torn in a lot of parts, so she had to scrape it off with a metallic device she took from the first aid kit Peter had on the Milano. She was glad he was not conscious for this part because she knew the pain from tearing flesh out of your body and she didn't wish it on anybody. She finished cleaning the tissue and began stitching the area, slowly but efficiently. She finished after more than 20 stitches and wrapped the clean injury with gauze. _

_She continued her assessment with careful eye as she cleaned the scratches he had all over his torso. She run her fingers over his chest as she tried to find any other hidden injury, but she knew she would have to use the digital body analyzer to know if he had internal injuries or not. Sweat moved its way from her brow to the corners of her face as she continued aiding her friend._

_Rocket on the other part of the Milano had started the ship and shot a few guards. He was mad and wanted to destroy the building and everything behind, but he knew that Gamora was fixing Peter and the evasion moves from the ship were enough on her plate; she didn't need him to do circles around the building and other actions right now._

_He flew out on space, avoiding every laser shot with barely an inch gap, but he managed to do so and soon they were out of atmosphere and safe, or as safe as they could be. He unbuckled his seat belt and hung his head low. He still needed to pull it together, but tonight, he was going to dread going to sleep for he knew he would have nightmares of this mission for a long time._

_Gamora placed her hand over Peter's swollen wrist and bit her lip. It was not broken, but probably badly twisted. Peter was not going to like it. _

_She wrapped it and focused on the burnt on his right arm. Parts were still being affected by the acid and she quickly washed it off, careful so the acid would not touch any other part of his body while doing so. She examined the burnt areas with worry as she wondered how the hell was Peter's body going to deal with this. He was marked from a few battles, but this was too much even for Gamora's liking: they were third degree burns: the areas around the wound were swollen and red, the big open wound had yellow looking skin and it was bleeding a bit. She sighed, there wasn't much she could do about it, they could use some ointment she knew about, but it would only ease the pain; what Peter needed was medical help._

_She placed the ointment over the wound and left the arm carefully on top of his torso. She would need to tell him not to move it much because it would be really painful and the skin was too destroyed to actually allow the muscles any protection. They would have to be careful and watch the wound for any infection, but he would live._

_Soon, all that was left was his back. She didn't want to move him from fear of damaging him more, but the scrapes were easily seen on his back and she needed to clean them. She asked Drax to move Peter into a sitting position and as fast as she could, she cleaned every single scratch from the dirt and gauzed them before placing back on the bed. Smiling at her work she placed a hand over his bangs and watched his chest move up and down for a while before she decided he was going to be okay._

_Stepping aside she allowed Drax to use the digital body analyzer hoping that there would not be any more wounds to deal with. Peter already was in a bad shape and he needed medical aid soon. She knew he could be stable, but this was Peter they were talking about and she knew that as soon as he woke up things would go down the drain for his own wellbeing. _

_Beep, beep…_

_She waited for the machine to do its work, but both creatures were tensed. Drax seemed to be wishing the machine would explode into little pieces, but it was doing its work, so they let it be. Finally, it stopped and a window popped on the screen that made both of them stare at each other with a raised eyebrow._

She shook her head to take the memories away. Yes, that had happened a few hours ago and Peter was still there, unconscious and bandaged. They were all sitting in the common room with nothing more to do but wait.

But there was a huge white elephant on the room no one wanted to speak off and this was the main reason as to why no one was actually speaking. The silence was growing painful with each passing minute and her headache was ripping her skull open as she wondered how they could not have seen it coming. They were supposed to be friends and somehow no one had even bothered to consider the obvious possibility that Peter Quill was hiding something.

Drax stared angrily at the table with Rocket, for once, completely silent by his side. Groot was on Rocket's other side and Gamora was right in front of him. Suddenly, Rocket sighed deeply and with his ears flat on his head he rested it on the table.

— "How the hell did we not see it?" — he asked the crowd.

— "We could not have seen it. It is an internal disease." — Drax replied, making Rocket snap his head back up.

— "I didn't mean it like that, you goofus." — he replied quickly — "I meant how were we so stupid to pass his symptoms!"

— "Maybe he has none."

— "Yeah right, like you get sick without feelin' like shit." —he spitted each word angrily —"The guy is a freakin' pulp right now and with a fever. And excuse me and my lack of Terran understandin' but what the fuck is pneumonia anyway?"

Gamora finally got out of her own thoughts at that question. Yes, the elephant was finally spotted and the issue could be dealt with, but the problem was none of them knew a thing about the disease.

They were from other planets, planets with other diseases and creatures, which made Peter the only one with knowledge about it. They had tried to contact someone about it, but the Nova Corp had no clue about what to do without a healer there. Technology was biting their asses hard.

All they knew was that it meant Peter was sick and had been for a long time. The fever should have appeared a couple of days ago, with headaches and a general problem with his wellbeing. How the disease progressed depended on how it was treated and right now, no one knew a single thing about how to proceed.

—"It's a Terran disease." — she replied tiredly. They had not rested since they had gotten into the Milano. She had washed herself and treated her injury in her arm, but apart from that, she had barely sat down or closed her eyes.

— "Yeah, we all know that!" — Rocket rolled his eyes. He was worried, they were all worried. — "But what** is **it."

— "All we know is that it progresses from a simple fever." — she whispered and everyone stayed quiet again. After a while she started talking again, but it was more of a statement to herself than the others — "He just never takes cares of himself… I should have seen it coming. We should have connected the dots… his moods were different, he barely listened to his music anymore…" —

—"…he stayed up a few nights a week too." — Drax added.

—"And barely ate a thing. Always sayin' it was disgustin' or some bull like that." — Rocket continued.

They all stared at each other. They **had** seen it coming; they just chose not to really act on it. It's not that they didn't care, but Peter… well Peter was Peter! He was always up to the beat and happy. He always cared about everyone else and often stayed late for duties no one else wanted to do, so… so sick just didn't fit him. And they had chosen to allow their brains to continue that magical idea that he would never get sick and now he was there, on his bed unconscious and barely hanging to life.

— "We cannot do much right now." — she stood up and turned towards Peter's room. —"For now, there shall always be someone with him. We need to address his injuries and wait for him to wake up so we can deal with the sickness and symptoms. I'll go first, then Rocket, Drax and finally Groot. If he wakes up, you get everyone there as soon as possible, we don't know what Peter might need."

— "And we kill him for not tellin' us he was sick." — Rocket muttered under his breath with a shake of his head.

— "He has not done anything to harm me… why would I want to kill him?" — Drax asked as he too stood up ready to do something.

— "No, no, no… okay, just hurt him a lil' bit."

—"You are a very interesting creature, my friend." — he replied before bowing his head and turning to leave.

Gamora smiled at Rocket and Groot, the last one barely glancing at her and took the opportunity to leave.

Rocket glanced at his friend, but decided not to ask anything. Groot was probably worried with everything that was going on and besides, he really wasn't feeling right to read in between Groot's words.

He stood up and patted his leg before moving to the pilot cabin and decided to do something with his time. He had a few hours before he was supposed to take care of Peter, so he might as well do something while he was awake and waiting.

Gamora opened the door to Peter's room and sat down right next to him. She placed a hand over his and her smile dropped. He was so still, so unlike Peter. She wanted him so badly to just open his eyes, smile and laugh at her concerns. She wanted to hear his voice and see those wonderful blue eyes filled with the dreams of a child she always liked.

How could they not see it? He was paler than usual, he was skinnier than usual…. They had done things so wrong that she didn't know if they could mend them.

She took his hand carefully for a couple of seconds before she left it back where it was and rested her back on the chair. She was going to stay with Peter tonight and hopefully he would soon wake up so they could deal with the guilt they had and with his own stupidity.

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><p><strong>Soo… that's it. Tell me what you think of the chapter, if it was worth your time or not xd and I will try to have another chapter as soon as possible. <strong>

**Thank you for everything! I'll see you soon.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello! I'm back and sorry for the wait. This week was horrible, HORRIBLE. I had a test every day at least and pretty much sucked at everything theoretical and the practical things, did fine, but baaag… anyway, new favourites and followers! I'm happy for that and promise I'll try to write as soon as possible! This is the only thing that makes me relax and I love writing so, not going to drop this, even if I end up going to exams at the end of the year.**

**Anyway, here it is, hope you like it…**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

Pain. That's all he knew as he regained consciousness. Pain everywhere. It felt as if a rock had crashed his entire body against another rock and he was still in the middle of it all. His chest contracted painfully with every breath and all he could think of is how the hell was he going to get out of this one and that he really, really needed to go to the bathroom.

He opened his eyes carefully as he didn't want to know what was out there and suddenly, he saw his own roof. He frowned for a moment trying to remember how the hell he had gotten back to the Milano and why everything hurt, and soon images flew into his mind randomly.

He had been on a mission. Then Rocket yelling at him. A big fat dude. Running and flying and then falling and pain. Fuck, a lot of pain. He swallowed hard as his dry mouth barely handled this movement as he mentally assessed his own status.

To say he felt like shit was an understatement. His arm was burning and he really struggled with the idea of ripping the skin off to see if it would make it feel any better. His leg was not really in a better shape as every time he even tried to lift it, his muscles screamed for him to stop and he did not have the energy to go against them anymore. So he was stuck there in a comfortable bed in a rather comfortable position in the worst and uncomfortable status he had ever faced.

But even though he just wanted to go to sleep and forget about it all, he really needed to use the bathroom. He swallowed again as he turned his face to the right and left wondering if there was anyone else there to see his pathetic state. He smirked to himself as he found himself alone in a lighted room. At least he could cry like a little girl on his own.

No, Peter Quill was never one to complain about his injuries. Most of the time he tried to hide them from the rest and often found himself in a bit of a predicament when Gamora asked about a new scar she knew he didn't get from a girl at a bar. It wasn't that he didn't care for his own safety and wellbeing, but he was so used to taking care of himself that it just didn't even come as a possibility in his mind to ask for someone to aid him. But now, now he knew it was more than a scratch that needed a couple of stitches, it was more than a sprain ankle, it was even more than most of his injuries combined probably, so he knew he was going to complain. He knew he was going to cry and scream for the pain to stop if he wanted to try to get out of bed, but what he also knew was that he was too stubborn and proud to ask for help and he was going to try this on his own.

First thing first, he needed to at least sit on the bed.

He moved both his arms to his sides carefully and pushed his body up slowly and as gently as he could. He bit his lip until he drew blood as his muscles screamed for this new movement to stop. His lungs contracted painfully and he could barely breathe as he wondered if this was such a good idea. But what hurt the most was his left shoulder: he could not move it as usual and it made a sickening _pop_ sound as he continued rotating it as he lifted his body. His left wrist was also hurting and he knew it was swollen, but he had twisted it so many times that the pain was almost normal to him, so he kept going.

On his right side his arm was still on fire, but the burning sensation was not ripping his brains apart as his left shoulder had decided to take the lead on this show. He felt a _crack_ and guessed it was probably a bruised rib he hoped he didn't actually cracked as he pushed his upper body into a sitting position. His entire body felt the change in positions and he wanted to vomit. The headache grew — one he hadn't guessed he had — and the entire room started spinning around him annoyingly. He closed his eyes tired already from the exercise and stood still for a moment, trying to breathe as slow as he could, but something was preventing him from doing so. It was like something was stuck deep into his lungs or respiratory tract and was preventing air to get in or out.

He coughed a couple of times, making his body shake and into more pain as he wished he would just pass out and his pee dissolved without his knowledge, but of course, he was not that lucky.

Before he could opened his eyes again, the cough grew without his acceptance and he had to place a hand over his mouth as it felt as if something was pushing out. He kept coughing hardly for a couple of second before it finally stopped. He stared at his hands with disgust as he felt something squishy and dark green on them. He really needed to vomit right now.

Shaking his head he cleaned his hands on the sheets and made a decision: he really needed to get to the toilet now and clean himself. He felt disgusting, a sheet of sweat covering his body from head to toes and though he had a lot of bandages on and could not see even half of his body, he just knew he needed a bath.

—"Okay, Pete, you can do this… just… slow and steady…"— he told himself as he mustered all the courage and strength he had before he turned his body to the right, his legs towards the floor and bent on the edge of the bed. He bit his lip again from the pain and almost screamed, but controlled it before it was too late. —"Maybe… slower…" — he added in a painful whisper.

He closed his eyes again as he hold on to the bed with both his hands as if his life depended on it.

His body was really unbalanced right now and he often found himself moving to one side or the other before he corrected his position. His mind was blurry with ideas and he wondered if he again had a fever. He swallowed hard as his throat again protected against it, but didn't even make a sound.

He opened his eyes once again and stared at the empty room with half a smile on his face. Hey, at least he could sit, right? That meant he was not as fucked up as he guessed, right? And if his teammates weren't there right now, then it was probably not life threatening.

Those thoughts gave him hope. He really didn't like staying on a bed all day long and he was the worst at being sick. He remembered once when he had the flu with Yondu and after only 12 hours of getting out of bed and sneaking out every single minute, Yondu had finally decided to tie him up to the bed. He smirked at the memory. Gosh he had been bad when being with Yondu. How the hell had the alien not eaten him was beyond his own understanding, but well… to be honest about it, it's not really usual to actually eat your **own** companions, right?

— "Okay, now the hardest part… focus for once, please…"— he told himself as if saying it out loud would make his brain do something differently.

He pushed his body up and failed. The pain as he placed his left leg on the floor was too much for his tired muscles to take and they had not allowed him to stay more than a second with the leg on the floor. He sighed as he tried two more times and didn't work out. He closed his eyes frustrated by his own pathetic actions. At this pace he would pee the bed before actually being able to stand.

He wanted to yell and ask for help. He really wanted to do something before his bladder could no longer hold itself, but his brain kept telling him to postpone it. If his guess was right then Gamora and the rest already knew about him begin sick from before and knew about his injuries, all of them. They had changed him into new pants and bandages were all over his body, so really, it was not even possible to think they had not looked at every inch of his body —not that he was comfortable with the idea — and that only meant they would be mad as hell with him.

They would probably yell at him for being reckless, for having so many injuries and new scars, but most of all, because he had been sick for a while and had said nothing about it, and they would want to know why.

But honestly, who could blame him? He was used to being on his own, to actually take care of everything on his own and to not talk about it. He was not a feeling's kind of guy and he knew it. He was good at talking, he was good at listening to other people's problems and not only to get to a girl's bed — thank you very much — but also because he needed to be because of his job.

Let's be honest about it: he was a Terran, a life form that was not really on the top of the universe life forms list. They were seen as really stupid and slow in their technological advances. They seemed to believe they were the only ones in the entire universe, which made them look even more useless and to be honest about it, Peter kind of agree with it. If it wasn't for the fact that he had been taken when he was little and that his mother had told him his father was from out of space, then he would probably be as useless as any other human and physically speaking, he actually was. Terrans were not strong at all, and he knew it.

Yes, he had his suit that made him stronger and would allow him to breathe out in space and in other atmospheres and he apparently had alien DNA, also, but those only happened because he was smart and due to his own mother having a relationship with an alien; without those, he was as plain as any other little human, so he had to figure out a way to simply not die. So he had found out being clever and talking a lot to make more friends than enemies — even as a ravagers — helped a lot, but all of that didn't mean he was good at talking about himself, but more like he was used to diverting conversation from himself to other issues.

So yes, he was used to not being the center of attention and when needed he could easily get the conversation topic changed to something he was more comfortable with, so sue him if he had done it unconsciously or consciously with his friends. But he was **not** going to talk about it. Not about why or when, not now, not ever. He was **not** a feeling's guy.

He shook his head and refused to allow his body any rest. He was in charge and he could go to the bathroom if he wanted. He was not going to stay still for a while.

He pushed his body again and lifted his body finally making it, but taking the hard consequences as well. His leg bent as it could not support him and before he knew it, he was on the floor. The pain that erupted through his body was too much for him to take and before he knew it he was screaming curses like a little teenager. He bit his lip as agony crashed his brain as his right arm touched the ground and he felt every nerve firing signals he could not stop. His vision darkened, but his body was not going to allow him to rest, because this was his punishment for being stupid.

He heard fast footsteps coming towards him, but he didn't care. As long as the pain stopped then he was fine with even the Queen of England to come to his aid. Tears covered the inside of his eyes, but he didn't allow them to flow free, he still wanted to keep a bit of his dignity.

— "Peter! What's going on?" — he heard a concerned Gamora and he turned his face to smile at her.

— "Hey…"— he smiled at her before he closed his eyes and a painful moaned escaped his chapped lips.

— "What happened?" —she asked as she approached him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. —"Why are you out of bed?"

Gamora had been sitting on the common room when she heard the noise. At first she had guessed it had been Rocket that was working on the back of the ship, but when she realized it had been from Peter's room she had freaked out. Then she heard the screams and curses…

She had only been out of there for a couple of minutes. She didn't think he would wake up soon and she had needed a rest from the sad atmosphere, so she had decided to go and drink some hot beverage before going back, but now… now he was awake and in pain, and it was all because she had not been there for him… again.

— "I just…. Thought about going for a walk?" — he asked trying to taste the waters before actually drowning in her deadly glare.

— "You should have asked. We could have aid you." — she replied with regret before she stood up —"I will come back with Drax so he can help you up. Don't move, please…"— she added the please slowly before she turned and left.

Peter really wanted to hit himself in the head right now and he would have, if he hadn't been in this amount of pain. He had made Gamora sad… no, not angry, but sad and that meant he had screwed up more than he could actually handle. Yes, Gamora angry was deadly and scary, but he knew that one: stay out of her way, do as she says and then it would work out, but sad Gamora? That was new… and he had no idea how to make it go away and back to normal.

Before he could make a plan, Drax and Gamora where on his side. He nodded to Drax to lift him up —as if he even had a choice in the matter —and mumbled a couple of curses as his body screamed for it to stop. Maybe the floor was not a bad place to be right now…

—"You okay, Peter?" — she asked as she analyzed every winkle that appeared on his face as his agonizing trip to bed continued.

—"Uh-uh…" — he managed to reply — "…need to pee though…" — he added remembering why he had been so stupid to get out of bed on his own.

Drax raised an eyebrow towards Gamora who simply shrugged and nodded. She didn't like it, but she couldn't stop him from releasing himself, even though she wanted him stuck to bed for the rest of his life.

He turned to the bathroom and placed Peter on the toilet. He moved to help him again, but Peter raised a hand to stop him.

—"Wow, hold on big guy!" — he spoke quickly —"No need for you to… you know… I can do it myself… feel perfectly fine and capable right now…"—he added with a reassuring smile.

Gamora narrowed her eyes at this. Why some people were so shy about this kind of things was beyond her, but she guessed he could handle it. She nodded at Drax, who kept glancing at her as if not knowing what to do, before she turned to the bed and sat there.

— "Just a couple of minutes, Peter. If you need anything, just say it."

He nodded at Gamora and waited for Drax to leave before he closed the door to the small bathroom. He sighed as he run a hand over his sweaty bangs. A shower was out of the question, but at least they had allowed him to do this on his own. If he was capable or not was not a question, he **had to** be capable of doing it.

He pushed his body up again, but this time didn't let his left leg to hit the floor. He knew it was useless to even try to, so why the hell waste time on that anyway. He turned to face the toiled and released himself easily and happily. One problem down… a hundred to go.

He stared at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands and regretted doing so instantly: his face was so white it was like the tiles on the bathroom, the dark bags under the eyes making it look even more ghostly like than he wanted to actually accept he was. His hair was almost glued to his face as the sweat seemed to be everywhere. Gosh he looked terrible! No wonder they were treating him like a glass doll.

He placed water on both his hands and washed his face as he realized he had a fever. Fuck, could this be any worse?

He sighed tiredly before he sat back down. He didn't feel like hopping out of the bathroom and his shoulder was killing him. He moved it gently, but every time he turned it an inch it screamed to him. He bit his lip again.

_Fuck, fuck fuck…!_

— "Okay…" — he yelled and the door was opened quickly.

Drax moved to grab him and waited for Peter to nod to do so. He frowned, if Peter was this tired to actually allow him to carry him, then this was bad, but he decided not to say a single word right now and just carry him to bed.

Peter closed his eyes and smirked.

— "We really need to go on a date if we are going to keep this touchy relationship, man…" — he joked before he yawned. Gosh, when had he gotten this tired?

— "We are friends; we do not need a date."

— "Uh-uh… sure…"— he replied with another yawn as he was placed on the bed again. He coughed a couple of times before he felt someone's weight on the bed beside him.

— "Pete… you cannot go out of bed without help. Your body needs rest."

He swallowed. He hadn't planned on not being able to go to the bathroom on his own. He had tried to do it without them knowing and now, they were hurting. He opened his eyes and turned towards his green friend and nodded.

— "Yeah, maybe that's a good idea… my shoulder's killing me."

She narrowed her eyes at his comment. She knew it was due to the fall with Rocket. He had torn a few muscles there and the inflammation was bothering him, but for Peter to actually say something was hurting meant something was really wrong.

—"Anything else bothering you?" — she asked taking advantage of his openness.

He frowned at this. Uh… why was he feeling this drunk all of a sudden? He felt as if he was being lifted from the pain into a really cool place filled with lovely and colourful things. He smiled at her and shook his head. He coughed a couple of times before he felt Drax —or maybe someone else —lift him to a seating position. He coughed that damn green thing again into his hands before Gamora cleaned it with a tissue and he was placed back down.

He smiled to her before he closed his eyes.

—"Peter… Pete?…" — she tried, but he was already out of it.

She bit her lip before she closed her eyes frustrated by her own lack of courage. Why she had not confronted him or asked about his stupid pneumonia was something she could not reply right now. She had tried to, she really had, but the pain was written all over his face and he was so tired… how could she not have allowed him some rest?

She stood and moved to the common room where she found a pacing raccoon. She sat down before he was able to speak.

—"He was awake and ya didn think to call me?!" — he yelled.

—"Please… he was awake for only a moment" — she replied — "He went to the bathroom and it took all of his energy."

— "Tskk…"— he raised a hand dismissively . —"We had an understandin': if he woke up on any watch, the one would go and find the others! You came up with it!" — he placed both hands over his ears and pulled at them, before he took a deep breath and let it go. They were all worried about Peter, this was no time for fighting. He sat next to her and rested his head on the table before speaking again — "How is he?"

She smiled at him before she turned her sight to Peter's room. She had not been there, that was why she had not gotten all of them. She had been somewhere else and now he was in more pain than before.

—"Not good…"

— "Did ya find out about the pneumonia thing?"

—"No… but he has a fever again and he coughed something green." — she stared at her hands for a moment as she remembered what had happened moments ago.

— "How about his fever? Did he say antyhin' actually?"

— "Not much… he was in too much pain to do so…. Rocket, how long until we get to a healer?"

—"Three days, four tops." — he replied.

—"Okay, then we need to make sure he doesn't do something reckless again. He can't get out of bed in the state he is in. And we need to make sure of it."

—"Yeah…."— Rocket replied in a whisper. — "We'll tie him to the bed if needed."

— "I think he will cooperate." —Drax came to the room —"He seemed to be in too much pain to go against our wishes."

—"Yes… I saw that too." — Gamora commented sadly.

— "Well, of course he is! That's what he gets for bein' stupid."

— "We'll talk to him about it when he feels better. Right now we need to focus on him getting better. Next time he wakes up we feed him and let him take a few drugs so he feels better, but no getting up unless it's with help and to do something important." — She added.

Everyone needed in agreement, but they all stayed in silence adding just a tiny comment in their minds, but too afraid to say it out loud: _these were going to be the longest three days of their lives._

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><p><strong>So there! Peter is waking up now and more things will happen next chapter. Hope you liked it… I really do, I'm a bit tired right now so I don't know if it actually sucks or now… : sorry if it does.**

**I'll see you soon!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi, so thanks again for the comments, likes and followers, but I'll have to say this chapter… urg, don't know. I haven't had enough time to think about it, but I'll post it anyway. Maybe erase it in a couple of days if I change it or something. But here it goes…**

**Sorry if there are typos, I had time to correct only half of it. I'll correct the rest, promise.**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

Time is something that creatures invented a long time ago: they decided to count things a year, a day, a month and call it time so they could measure their own advance, but time is a funny thing because it can somehow last an eternity or a single moment, all depending on how you grasp that second.

For instance, sometimes an hour at a fight can seem like a couple of seconds, that you just arrived and attacked someone and now he's there dead with blood over their faces as their soul moves from this world to the other, or maybe an hour can seem to last ending days as you move around the universe, uncertain of what your future will look like… but in both cases, it is still an hour that passed away.

Time plays with you, messes with your mind as it seems to stretch in the worst cases, just like it was happening to them right now.

Gamora stared at the annoying clock one more time: barely ten minutes had passed since she had last taken a look at it and it bothered her. It meant she was worried, it meant Peter had only slept two hours and it also meant that they were a long way from where they needed to be.

She placed the hot cup on her tiny lips and took a gentle and slow sip from it before placing it back on the table. She smiled at Rocket who was trying to control himself by arming and disarming different weapons she could only wonder where he had gotten the parts for.

Since Peter had fallen asleep again they had looked at his bandages and given another look at his internal organs, but everything was in place. The pneumonia was still a mystery to them, but if you didn't count the fact that sometimes it seemed that he could barely breathe, then he looked perfectly fine… or at least alive.

They had cooked a simple dinner for everyone else and now Drax was with Peter, making sure he didn't wake up and if he did, he would had everything ready.

So now, all they needed to do was wait: wait for Peter to wake up and tell them how to treat him, wait for the Milano to get to the nearest planet with healers and wait till the next unlucky event hits them in the face.

— "You alright there, Groot?" — she asked the tall living tree who seemed to be staring at nothing for just a little too long.

Groot stared back at her with sadness in his eyes and a guilt she could not really place. What was he feeling guilty about? Peter? The mission? She wanted to ask about it, but Rocket spoke before she could.

— "Don't worry about it… he's just worried about the idiot, like we all are…"— he responded without taking his eyes from the little bomb he had just armed.

Gamora frowned. Yes, Groot did seem like the kind of person that would actually worry to the point of over worrying, but the look in his eyes, that deep angst she was getting from him was definitely not because of that, but she let it go, because she just didn't have the energy to continue her inquiry.

Another hour passed with the three of them just sitting there before they heard a groan from the other room. It only took one glance at each other for them to understand what they all wanted to do and would do: go and aid their friend.

They say that pain goes away eventually, but for Peter this was definitely not it. As soon as he woke up excruciating pain shattered all of his barriers and even though he didn't want to express any sort of pain, the groan escaped his lips without his knowledge. He tried to move to the side, but the tender flesh from his muscles was too tired from the recovery sessions that it was not going to happen, so he did what he was supposed to: wait.

He closed his blue eyes, took a deep breath and let it go slowly. Somehow even doing that made everything in him scream in pain, but he tried to focus just on the breathing. He was supposed to be used to pain, he was supposed to be used to injuries, so he just needed to tell his brain to suck it up, because he was definitely not going to stay there for the rest of the century.

He heard footsteps and prepared himself for the new company. His brain was tired and his feverish body was not really ready to put a mask on, but if he had to, he would as he didn't want anyone to worry. They all had their issues and he was fine, just fine.

He opened his eyes as Gamora, Groot, Rocket and Drax moved into the room — or maybe one of them was there before? Uh, he really couldn't tell — and smiled gently. He tried to sit, move a little bit or anything, but a gentle hand was pressed over his chest and stopped his movement.

—"Hey…"— went the sweet whisper that accompanied the hand.

—"Hey…"— he replied back still with half a smile on.

— "How are you feeling?" — she asked while carefully taking a look at all of his injuries.

— "I'm fine." — he replied instantly, like it was almost a mechanical response. He smiled at them when they all rolled their eyes at him, but just shrugged it off. He was not going to tell them he felt like a train had crashed into him, because well… there wasn't much they could do about it, so why worry them?

—"Your fever is back." — she placed a hand over his forehead and frowned. She didn't like that she needed to talk to him about the disease, but time was ticking and they needed to work this one out if they wanted their captain back on track.

— "How long have I been out?" — he asked and again tried to push his body up and this time he succeeded. He bit his lip from the pain, but his stubborn mind did not aloud any sort of groan or noise to get out of his lips. — "I'm guessing from the looks more than a couple of hours?"

— "A couple of hours? A bunch of hours if you ask me!" —Rocket yelled while crossing his arms over his chest —"You scared them all. I was almost thinkin' you were good to go."

—"Uh… sorry for… scaring them?" —he said carefully. He knew Rocket was speaking more about himself than the others, but cornering the raccoon on a feeling's wall right now was not a good idea. He was definitely not ready to stand a fight against anything bigger than a pudding, or maybe not even that. —"I'm fine now though… thinking of going to the pilot's cabin for a bit… or something… stretch the legs…. You know…"

The atmosphere soon changed and Peter felt like a two years old as he swallowed hard. The narrowed eyes, the dense atmosphere that you could cut with a knife and the hand on the hip movement from Gamora told him he was not going to move any time soon.

He really wanted to yell, to tell them he was fine, that he was used to doing this kind of stuff and that every time he got injured when being with Yondu or alone, he had taken care of it himself. He had once broken his arm and worked on the ship anyway — though he never really told Yondu that he had a broken arm — and he had managed, so this was not different, right? He could do it… if they just listened to him, then they would understand.

But at the same time those thoughts came to mind, his body begged for it to stop. His arm was burning, his leg was screaming signals of destruction and his head had the worst headache he had ever had. The sweat had started again and even though he had slept for a while, he was so tired he could sleep for years.

So what to do when your body and heart don't want the same thing? What to do when what you've done for your entire life suddenly seems really stupid, yet your mechanical ways just want to lead you that way?

—"Stretch your legs? Stretch your legs?! HA! Why don't you give it a shot and we'll see, uh?" — Rocket laughed and shook his head, they all knew Peter was stubborn but this was borderline stupid.

— "Shh, Rocket!" — Gamora narrowed her eyes dangerously to the mammal that simply shrugged annoyed. She turned towards Peter with a question already in her mind, but without the knowledge of how to approach the subject.

He stared back at her with glassy eyes as his strength began going down. He yawned a couple of times before Gamora asked Drax to bring some food in and Rocket and Groot to bring new clothes and bandages. She waited for them to leave the room before she turned towards Peter again.

— "So…."— he said nervously as he knew by the looks of it that they were going to have that talk he dreaded. — "…something interesting happening while I was out?"

She smiled towards him before she sat on the bed with her hand over his. He stared at her confused by the amount of sensations he was feeling, but tried to control his heart rate and breathing while placing a nervous smile of his own.

—"You have a fever, Peter." — she stated. Not commented, but stated. There was an awkward silence after she spoke, Peter thinking of many questions while she tried to read him, but it was impossible. She was really good at reading enemies, but Peter was too good at hiding. Maybe he was used to hiding, maybe he had some dark memories that made him act like that even while being surrounded by friends, so she tried to accept it. She tried to be patient and not expect him to open up instantly, but she needed answers and she needed them right now.

— "How… how bad is it?" — he asked in a very low voice almost like a whisper that Gamora barely heard. He was no longer starring at her but at his own body filled with bandages.

She stopped touching his hand for a second and took a long look at her friend: he seemed tired, too stressed to fight her right now and even though she knew she shouldn't, she was going to press for answers… just this time, just because he needed it… just because his life depended on it.

— "You have a laser wound on your left leg that we had to stitch up." — she started with a calculated voice —"Torn muscles on your left shoulder, which will hurt for at least a week before you are able to use that arm with comfort. Twisted left wrist from the fall with Rocket I believe and acid on your right arm. We cleaned it but most of your skin there is gone, so we need a healer to fix that."

With every new injury she told him about he cringed a little bit more. He could feel everything she was pointing and it made him feel even worse. Maybe it was not a good idea to know how bad your body is when all you want to do is move forward and get out of bed, uh?

— "…and there is something else."

_Fuck, she knows…_

He raised an eyebrow at her before another round of coughing began, but this time it was worse than the others. He felt his lugs pushing the same disgusting thing out of them, but the force of the stress made him unable to breathe in between coughs. He looked desperately towards Gamora, who quickly enough pulled him into a seating position. He didn't know what was worse: the coughing or the sickening pain he was feeling from the change of positions.

He kept coughing with a hand over his mouth and another on his chest as he pressed hard to get the stuff out of his body. He felt tired and closed his eyes as he heard someone telling him to breathe… how did that go? In and out, right, like that was going to happen…

Suddenly, a green mass finally got out of his lungs and into his hand. His chest was in pain and he felt as if he had broken a bruised rib or something, but he said nothing as he was finally able to breathe. Oh the joys of life! Breathing had never been this exciting before!

— "Pete? Pete? Are you alright?" — Gamora asked from behind as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder while trying to give him space to breathe.

—"Uh… yeah… just felt like drowning for a moment there." — he said jokingly, though he was glad not to be able to see her face, because if her grip meant anything, it was that she was mad. He cleaned his hand with a tissue before his attention was back on her.

—"How long have you been sick?"

He turned to face her, pain ripping his skull and body open and gave her a half smile. His brain was dancing with the pain, a little ballet that made it impossible for him to focus. He wanted to rest, he wanted to dig a hole and hide there for the rest of his life, but he couldn't… he was not lucky enough to be able to do so anyway.

—"Sick? Uh… yeah… about that…."— he said with glassy eyes that threatened to close soon.

— "Peter? We need to know… **I** need to know…"— she whispered as she changed to be in front of him while she placed him gently back into a resting position.

— "Couple of days…."— he replied and groaned as he was again moved. Why couldn't they just leave him sitting there? That was a nice position. No more pain, no more need to stand when your lungs decide to puke something out of them, no more shoulder screaming or skin tearing from the stress…. Yeah, maybe sitting was a good decision.

He was thinking about it as Gamora placed him on the bed and asked another round of question that got to deaf ears. Peter smiled at her with his typical half smile that said everything was going to be okay, but she knew it wasn't going to. She was worried and he was finally speaking… he needed to recover and they needed to help him in doing so because he was a kid in this sort of things, he was stubborn and stupid and would always put himself last and she knew, this was not going to be different.

— "Pete… what's pneumonia?" — she asked again, this time trying to get his attention by placing a hand on his cheek.

— "Pneumonia? Uh… haven't heard of that in a while." — he replied and yawned — "Had it once, was a bitch." — he added and shook his head at the memories of almost coughing your lungs out while being at the care of Yondu.

— "We heard of it, but we do not know how is treated."

— "Treated? Uh… why are you asking me this?" — he shook his head again, his brain too melted with the fever to even notice the twitch on her eye and the worry that seemed to be over every one of his teammates —"Treat fever…. Infection of the lungs…. Antibiotics and lots of rest, I guess? Don't remember much… just that…. Sucked."

She didn't say anything as she stared at him with sad eyes. So Peter was just too feverish to actually give them a real answer. Control the fever was just controlling symptoms, not the cause itself, but she didn't have it in her to bother him anymore with answers she knew, if he was alright, would never reveal to them without a fight.

—"Hey… the disc…"— he began and she raised an eyebrow. The disc?

Oh… that disc… the one that had started everything. That stupid disc she did not want even near her right now. They had completely forgotten about the mission when they had seen Peter like that. Maybe it was still there in the desert? Who cared anyway?

— "Pants… right pocket…"— he added with a smirk before he closed his eyes again and concentrated on his breathing.

She raised an eyebrow again and pushed herself up slowly. She turned towards the pile of destroyed clothes and placed a hand over what used to be Peter's pants. She turned towards him again as she noticed his eyes were back on her as she grabbed what was in them. Surprisingly, the shiny object appeared in her hand.

—"How did you…?"

—"Just like Bonnie and Clyde... Never leave the money behind…"— he said between coughed and before she knew it, he was gone.

She stared at him for a couple of minutes and didn't even acknowledge Drax when he came in with a bowl of soup or something. She didn't do anything when Rocket asked about Peter and placed a couple of clean bandages near her and she didn't even blink when Groot tried speaking to her, but she did cringe and frown each time she heard Peter groan in his sleep. She did notice every time Peter moved and his body reacted to it by tensing. He did notice the blood she had to clean from the wounds, the scarring and the dead tissue. She did notice the sweat covering his face, the burning of his cheeks and forehead and the coldness of his hands. She also noticed the shivers from the fever, the paleness of his face and the look of tiredness that adored the once happy face.

It was all too much to her. How could they fix this? How could they help Peter if they didn't have what they needed? They were gambling with his life right now because they had no idea what to do and from the looks of it, Peter had no idea either.

She finished her task and moved to the other room where the three awaited. They all wanted to say something, but her tired face made them stop on their tracks and let her rest and compose first.

She sat down on Peter's chair, the chair he should be sitting at right now, making jokes and listening to music, and sighed. She never knew how much she would miss his music, how much she would miss his scent, his smile, the "_I'm fine, don't worry about it_" phrase he would often use before hiding from the rest and heal himself… gosh, so much had gone wrong in just a couple of days! She wanted to scream, kill someone slowly and place Peter in a place where he could not hurt himself anymore.

Yes, there life as guardians was dangerous, but why did it always seem to happen to Peter? Was it because he was the captain and by being so got hurt more? Was it because of his suicidal attitude towards life? Well, maybe not suicidal but reckless none the less. Maybe they should put a leash on him, that way he would not go round and about hurting himself in the process.

She played with the disc in her hand, thinking about throwing it and destroying it, but not doing so mainly because Peter had gotten it for them. Somehow, in the middle of dying he had decided to take care of the stupid disc and give them at least the money and mission, if he died. It looked like a heroic move for anyone, but for her it looked like a stupid reckless Peter Quill, aka Star-Lord, move.

—"He doesn't know much about it." — she stated without turning towards them. She didn't want to see the look in their faces, the vast universe seemed so much nicer right now. —"And he gave me the disc for the Nova Corp."

—"He had it?" — were Rockets first words. He looked shocked and in disbelief for a moment before he was able to compose himself. —"Well at least he did that part right…"

— "Yeah…."— she said tiredly before turning the chair towards them.

—"What about the pneumonia thing? Said omething' about that?" — he continued as no one else seemed to know how to speak right now.

— "Not much… to control the fever and something about antibiotics."

— "What are those?" —Drax asked.

— "For infection… probably some sort of fruit from his planet." — she said still too tired to actually give longer answers.

—"Then we shall go look for them." — he continued.

— "Yeah big guy… you do that. When you learn how to travel at speed of light or faster I'll give ya a call." — Rocket patted his back and rolled his eyes — "In the meantime, what's the plan?"

Drax raised an eyebrow. Who had said anything about travel at speed of light. That was not something you could accomplish as a species… but he stayed quiet, wanting to know about the new plan as well.

— "I think we should—" — but she was cut off by a signal.

They all stared at each other for a second before they moved: Rocket to the firing area and scanner to locate the new threat, Drax to find weapons if they were needed, Groot and Gamora to the communication console.

They stared at the red dot for a moment not sure as of what to do: if it was someone that could help then they needed to answer that call, but it if was someone there to hurt them, then having Peter in that state was going to be dangerous.

What to do? What to do? Gosh, this was why they needed Peter! Even if they yelled at him in the end for his decisions, at least he didn't back out of them.

—"What do you think, Groot?"

— I am Groot." — he said and nodded.

She smiled back and nodded before pressing the red dot and turning to the screen. She waited only two seconds before her heart sunk in without any sort of change in her stand. She narrowed her eyes as she placed a hand over her hip and stared back at the blue face on the screen.

This was going to get interesting.

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><p><strong>Yup, that's about it :) Review if you like. I'll be posting soon. Take care!<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: So there is a reason why I haven't uploaded any chapters till now... I had finished this story and some a-hole hacker destroyed my computer. Yup, I lost everything, even stories that weren't here. I wanted to cry and was really angry and everytime I tried to write this story again, it made me remember what I lost (pictures, stories, stuff for college, etc) and just couldn't. But... it's time to continue, I guess.**

**Thanks for all the support and I will correct the last chapter and this one in a few minutes, so excuse me if I messed up something, but I wanted to post it as soon as possible.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

Gamora starred at the ugly looking blue guy in the screen. She narrowed her eyes as she carefully analyzed his every move to see what would be his next and to figure out what he was up to. She bit the inside of her cheek to control her own body movements. She knew she had tails about her nervousness like how she caressed her neck every once in a while or how she bit her lip for a couple of seconds before she let it alone while clicking her tongue twice, so she had to focus on not doing them or else they were all doomed.

She kept watching carefully as the ugly face moved around the screen without even saying a single word making her impatient and in need of answers for questions she was not going to ask. She kept her eyes narrowed while she counted in her head. It was not until she reached a hundred that a voice behind the big guy spoke.

– "We are not here to harm you in any sort of way, ma'am." – the voice spoke gently, but somehow she guessed that was not their real intention.

–"Then why don't you leave then?"

–"You see, that is not an option because you have taken something from us and we want it back." – the voice spoke again while the ugly looking creature smirked at her with such venom in his eyes that she almost had to take a step back.

She hated the creature in front of her: he had hurt Peter in many ways and she wanted to destroy every single cell that creature was made of, but she needed to reason with calm assessments right now or their entire lives could be at risk, even Peter's. She tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow as she continued her silence assessment and allowed him to continue.

–"You see, ma'am. We have quite an issue here: we have at least four ships with the intent of destroying yours as soon as the call is given and you have something we want. So why don't we cut to the chase? It's as simple as this: you give us what we want and then we can both go our ways and pretend this never happened."

– "And what would that be?"

–"We want our disc…–" he began but was interrupted by an angry yell from the vicious creature. The voice seemed to vaporize into thin air as tension grew on the other side of the screen and before she could say something the dreaded words came to life. –"…and the boy, of course."

There is nothing worse than being put on bed rest without your own consent. The bed sheets seem to clung to your skin while you try to make the best of it. Minutes turn into hours and you are overly aware of everything surrounding you. The aching seems like eternal and hell is right behind you. Even the need to get a hair out of your eye seems like the worse thing ever, but that was how Peter continued every time he got to wake up.

He opened his tired eyes again to find himself alone in his bedroom. He smirked and thanked his lucky star as he pushed himself painfully out of bed. He wanted to puke and faint at the same time, though he was not sure how his body was going to manage doing so, but his curiosity about the world was too great for him to allow himself any more rest, so he pushed it.

He gently sat on his bed before he pushed his legs to the left and towards the floor. Instantly pain erupted on his leg, but he was quick enough to shut his own lips before a groan escaped them and ruined his small chances of getting out of the room.

Smirking he counted to three before opening his eyes. He wished the pain would go away, but he was already so used to it that it seemed to be part of his persona, already soaking deep within his core. He tried to stand up almost regretting it as soon as he did, but his mission was to get the hell out of that room and he was going to succeed even if it meant to cut his leg off… well, maybe he was not ready for that much of a radical solution, but the idea was still there.

It took him a couple of minutes to finally be able to stand on his own two feet – though in all honesty he was on one feet with a shaky hand resting on the wall while the other was barely able to rest on the floor, not even thinking to sustain his weight. His breathing was in short breathes as he tried to focus on something more than the pain and the sweat covering his back when he suddenly heard whispers. He frowned deeply as he tried to listen to them, but the voices were too low for his ears to catch any of the sound waves coming towards him, so he guessed this was his new mission… find out what was going on and not pass out trying.

He quickly put some clothes on, just a plain shirt and some loose pants before he continued his journey.

– "One foot in front of the other… just one step at a time" – he kept repeating in a low voice as he moved his hand a few inches forwards and them almost hopped towards his destination. Each and every single time pain soaked his body and sent shivers towards his spine, almost making him wish he did faint and end this stupid little game, but he was Star-Lord, and he was not going to be troubled with some tiny little injury, right? So he kept going until finally the voices turned into natural words and he was able to understand every single one of them.

– "I'll bomb our way out of here!" – came Rocket's characteristic voice, which made Peter smile a little bit, though he was never going to say that out loud.

–"They have five ships, Rocket, we will not be able to do so in time." –came the tired response from a female voice he could tell was Gamora.

Peter frowned as he pushed his body one step closer to them. What were they talking about? What had happened that had changed their optimistic smiles to dreadful voices filled with concern and hopelessness? He swallowed hard as he felt a shiver run his spine. He shook his head, he was not going to allow fever to get the best out of him, specially right now. His team needed him and he was going to make the act of a life time if it was needed, but he was not going to let them down.

–"Well, what's your idea then, uh? Let those ugly assholes take Peter and hope for the very best? **That's** your idea?" – he asked making Peter stop on his feet now very interested in the conversation –"Well I'll tell you what, I ain't lettin' that happen! He might be a stupid human, but he is our human and I ain't lettin' him out of my sight anytime soon."

– "I am Groot." – came the voice of the tree like creature that Peter guessed had decided to agree with Rocket.

– "I would never give Peter away to them!" – Gamora yelled her voice raised in a danger tone that froze Peter to his spot while his mind tried to understand what was going on. –"I already told them that, so now we have to figure out how to get out of here alive… all of us."

Rocket mumbled something unintelligible before silence filled the air.

Peter shook his head trying to understand what was going on, but his mind was blank. He tried to remember the last couple of hours and times he had been awake, but nothing there seemed to have the answer to this new threat his team was having trouble dealing with. He bit his lip as he frowned and concentrated on the task at hand: maybe someone had attacked them? Maybe the Nova Corp was not coming to get them? Maybe… well, that was about as far as he went with ideas and before he was able to start imagining weird scenarios, another voice spoke.

–"We will fight them." – Drax spoke suddenly. –"We will aid our friend Peter and leave this place with the disc and him intact."

_Oh…, so that gives something up…_

Peter swallowed hard as he realized what was the most possible situation they had gotten themselves into: ugly acidic dude was here and he wanted the disc and, apparently, his ass as well. Well, fuck.

He closed his eyes as his heart raced against his chest and his skin grew even paler than before. He really wanted to say he was not into the idea of allowing some ugly dude to take his life and probably hurt him even more before deciding he was good to go, but… what was the other option? They had five ships, probably at least three aiming at their position right now and they really didn't have much going on for them. In all honesty, Peter felt like a caged animal waiting to be killed for others to serve him and there was nothing he could do about it.

He bit his lip as he gently rested his back on the wall to his right and thought about the possibilities he had at hand: A)he allowed himself to be taken and die in a rather ugly way B) he becomes the biggest coward in the world and pretend he did not just listen to this conversation and go back to his lovely bed C) try to fight the ships off and die with his crew in the most pathetic way ever. Yeah, saying he didn't like his options was an understatement.

What would a hero do? Well, give themselves up as martyrs and look from up in the sky to the lovely statue they would built in his memory. What would a captain do? Give themselves up and hope his crew get them in time to survive or get themselves out of their own mess. What could Star-Lord/Peter Quill do? Well, that was about to be seen.

The cold ship seemed even colder than before as the four friends stood next to each other.

The message had been delivered to them almost ten minutes ago and they had given them thirty to give an answer and they were as closed to one as they were ten minutes ago. Gamora stood in the middle of the room starring at nothing as her mind tried to find a way out of this mess, but there was just nothing there. No ideas, no hope, no nothing.

Rocket on the other hand kept himself busy with making bomb after bomb with materials no one wanted to know where they came from while he tried to think of a way to destroy five ships that were closed to them while allowing their own tiny ship to survive.

Groot and Drax both stared at the floor as if it had somehow changed into something interesting while the others weren't looking, but the tilting of their eyebrows, the look of despair in their eyes and how Drax's body twitched every once in a while told a very different story.

– "So we fight 'em, right?" – Rocket asked finally breaking the silence.

–"I guess we do…"– came Gamora's whispered words, not because she didn't want to fight them but because she had been trained to understand battles and to retrieve if she knew she could not face them and this was one of them. She knew they had not a single chance to come victorious and somehow she guessed everyone else thought so too.

– "Right…"– Rocket continued as he played with another bomb in his paws –"So who will tell the idiot down on the other room about the plan. uh? 'Cause it ain't be me."

– "Tell him? There is no need for that." – she replied with shock in her eyes as if the very idea seemed to shook her.

– "Well, excuse me Miss know it all, but I guess with all the fightin' and you know… explosion, he would wake up." –he replied with narrowed annoyed eyes –"Besides, if he's goin' to die I guess he kinda needs to know."

Gamora closed her eyes as she realized he was right. She didn't want to wake Peter, he was to hurt to understand anything right now and telling something of the sort would just break him. She wanted to help him, to cover for him and never let him go, but now… now Rocket's words sunk in her and deep down she knew he was right.

–"Well… uh… no need to go and, you know, explain anything." – he voice startled everyone as their heads shifted towards the new companion in the room, who was smiling at them with the biggest smile they had seen in a while. –"Hello, there." – he added awkwardly as he knew they were about to yell at him for getting out of bed without their knowledge.

– "Peter!" –Gamora rushed to his aid, but he was pretty comfortable leaning on the wall, so he simply shook his head and made her stop on her tracks. – "What are you doing out of bed? You could have injured yourself!"

–"Yeah well… not really keen on staying in bed right now, you know…"– he replied with a smirk –"So I decided to take a stroll."

– "A stroll? A stroll?! Oh well that changes everythin'!" – he answered sarcastically and rolled his eyes –"Well by all means do so, you stupid Terran."

–"Aww, and I thought you missed me." – came Peter's response with a huge smile on his face while he placed a hand over his chest and pretended to be hurt by the comment.

– "Peter, why are you here?" – Gamora quickly changed the subject before Rocket decided to detonate a bomb on Peter's face.

Peter smiled at her and pushed his body carefully towards his friends. It took him a bit and he knew everyone wanted to help him out, but he was glad no one moved, or else he would have felt like a little child during their first steps or something.

He was happy now, he had an answer to his friend's problem and he was more than welcome to accept his fate. He had been worried at first, but now that he thought about it, was there anything else he could possibly do? Was there really a chance for them to get out of there in one piece? No, so why don't point out at the giant elephant on the room and make a decision with that knowledge? No, he was not suicidal, but he really cared about them and since he had met them he had finally realized he needed to take care of someone else than himself. Wasn't that what his mother had taught him all those years ago? To be good and aid others?

He finally got to where Gamora was and stopped for a moment before he spoke. He needed to choose his words carefully or else they might not go with his plan, but if he was good at something, it was at convincing others and swindle. He had cheated in so many moment in his life that he could barely remember a moment when he had not gotten himself out of trouble by lying, so if he had done it to save his own ass, why not do it now?

–"So, I kind of heard the issue we have encountered… and I have a plan." – he started and watched every one of them before continuing. – "Let them have me–".

–"WHAT?! NO!" –came the frantic answer from everyone there, though Groot of course did not choose exactly those words, but Peter guessed he was with them on this one.

–"Hold on, hold on!" – he countered with his hands in the air. He took a deep breath as pain erupted into his side, but he tried to hide it as best as he could. –"That's not the entire plan. Don't worry… I'm not giving up on life right now." – he added with a smile, but none of them changed their narrowed eyes and closed postures, so he kept going. –"Let them have me and the disc, but before we do it, we put a tracker on me and call the Nova Corp, who might be here in just a few hours…"– he said as if he truly meant every word. He tried to continue with strong words and confident as if he really believed they would get in time to save him. –"That way you can rescue me and the disc as soon as they arrive."

– "That is a suicidal plan."

– "That's your worst plan till now, and you've had really bad ones, Quill."

–"I do not agree with this."

– "I am Groot."

Peter rolled his eyes at them before pinching his frowns. He really need to get more cowardly friends.

– "Guys, guys! It is NOT a suicidal plan. Yours on the other hand, most certainly is. Look, I am not looking forwards to seeing squishy guy there again, but it's the only chance we've got." – he continued and smiled to himself when their faces started changing as they really put thought into this. –"I trust you and I trust that you'll get me out of there."

– "You need medical aid, Peter."

And if they had meant for it to happen, he started coughing. He stopped after a few seconds and nodded. Yes, he needed medical aid, he was feeling more like a truck had hit him with each passing second and he was not really happy about it, but there was nothing more to be done. They needed to do this. They really did,

– "I can have whatever Groot gave me before for the fever and for the rest, I don't think they'll let me die anytime soon anyway." – he smiled grimly

It took about five more minutes for them to accept Peter's idea. Not because they wanted him hurt but because when they put everything on the table, this was the best way to do things. They would hurt him, but not kill him and this way they had a chance to survive, slim, but a chance none the less.

Peter stood nervously as the door to the connection bridge between the two ships opened. They had already called the Nova Corp (which would arrive soon, hopefully) and placed a tracker on Peter's neck.

Gamora had barely spoken to him before Groot gave him his beverage, one that again, he never wanted to try in his lifetime. He almost puked but kept it in as they helped him into some decent pants and shirt. He didn't want his jacket there because they might break it but he kept the apparatus for his mask if he needed to save his ass somehow in the end.

The doors opened and slowly moved upwards as they watched the feet of men on the other side become the ugly looking dude and his companions. The guy was smiling as he saw Peter, who could barely stand on his own anymore.

His leg was killing him, his wounds were bleeding again and his arm was burning from the injury there that the fat guy happened to give him. He held the disc on his hand, which was trembling a little bit, before he turned to his friends, winked at them, just to reassure them and began walking towards the dude.

He was worried, he was frightened, he was panicking, but his posture was one of a relax dude. He could scream when his team was not there and he knew he was going to scream a lot.

Rocket grabbed Groot's roots as if his life depended on it as he watched his friend and captain move forward towards his doom. He knew he had been coward for not deciding to die with him, but hope was the last thing you lose right? He wanted to believe in Peter's words, he trully wanted to believe they could save him and that had been the only reason why he had allowed his to happen.

Peter kept going until he was face to face with the guy. He swallowed hard as he felt the foul smell of his breath and smiled.

–"Hey, long time no see… you know if you wanted a date you could have just asked me." – he smirked to the guy in front of him. If he was going down, then he was going to do so on his own terms.


End file.
